


Marked

by ravenpuff1956



Series: Marked series [1]
Category: Fantastic Beasts and Where to Find Them (Movies)
Genre: Also newt's perspective, Angst, Bisexual Tina, F/M, Feels, Idiots in Love, Kinda, Romantic Soulmates, adorableness, basically a character study, but it's going to get better!, characters I made up - Freeform, sad Tina, you'll see - Freeform
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-12-10
Updated: 2019-01-07
Packaged: 2019-09-15 07:26:35
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 7
Words: 29,035
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16929021
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ravenpuff1956/pseuds/ravenpuff1956
Summary: In a world filled of witches and wizards who are covered in the tattoos of those who love them- Tina’s body was bare.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Hello again!  
> I loooovvveeee soulmate aus and I really wanted to write one for Newt and Tina. But then when choosing which one I wanted to do, I came up with this idea, which isn't really soulmates...but it's close enough, and I really like it... so I hope you do too!  
> This story is going to be in Tina's Pov but I'm also thinking about doing to do one in Newt's, and it's going to be real cute (but first they're going to have to go through some angst, sorry!)
> 
> Slight disclaimer: when picking what tattoo's I wanted for all the characters, I realised after, that I'd chosen some of the same creatures I've seen as tattoos before on Newt (dragon) but especially Tina (thunderbird). I hope no one thinks I'm stealing their idea or anything, I promise I wasn't thinking of anyone else's work while writing this and any similarities are not intentional. It's just when thinking about the characters, they were the only two animals which I thought reflected their souls and it was really hard trying to separate them from that. 
> 
> Larger disclaimer: there's also a scene where a character gets uncomfortable and lightly rude with Tina's sexuality, so don't read if that could make you uncomfortable.
> 
> Hope everyone enjoys!

In a world filled of witches and wizards who are covered in the tattoos of those who love them- Tina’s body was bare.

When she was little it hadn’t bothered her, actually it almost pleased her. She was incredulous when Mama told her that a tattoo symbolising everyone and anyone who ever loved her though out her life, was going to be stuck on her skin forever. Queenie had clapped her hands together in delight, but Tina had screwed up her face in disgust. 

“But Mama,” she said, “what if I don’t love that person back?”

“Don’t be silly Teenie, of course you’ll love them back,” Queenie hugged her sister round the neck, her blonde curls bouncing. 

“But I might not!” Tina said worriedly, “and then I’d be stuck with that reminder forever!” she crossed her arms stubbornly, her already characteristic frown stamped on her face.

Papa entered the room holding a tray on which stood four cups of cocoa, and shared an amused look with his wife. 

“Pumpkin, the tattoos are a symbol that someone has loved you,” Mama said, caressing her eldest daughter’s cheek, “and that is the most beautiful magic of all,” 

Still sceptical, Tina cheered up at the warmth of her hot cocoa. Queenie meanwhile was vigorously checking herself for marks, looking studiously under her petticoats.

“Mama, can I look at yours?” she said, while inspecting each ankle behind her dainty socks. 

Mama shot her husband a look filled of love and slowly pulled down her dress to reveal a sliver of collarbone. There a tiny otter swan on her skin, and waved an even smaller paw at the girls.

“You can touch if you want,” Mama said gently.

Queenie softly traced the otter’s snout; it sneezed and she giggled. Tina stuck out a tentative thumb and pressed it over the creature. It just felt like her mother’s skin, no lumps or bumps, or anything out of the ordinary. And yet the picture was so vibrant, the colours so lifelike and it’s movements so real, she half expected it to swim off Mama's shoulders and begin playing in their kitchen sink. Furrowing her tiny brow, Tina dug her thumb in deeper trying to rub it off.

“Porpentina!” her Mama scolded, brushing her hand away.

“I wanted to see if it would go away,” she sat back down sulkily, skirts pooling around her.

“It will never disappear, ever, little one,” her papa said, “not even if I left, not even if I stopped loving your mother. The love that was felt will always remain,” Then he kissed Mama full on the mouth, Queenie cooed and Tina hid her head in her hands.

After her parents had kissed her goodnight, and she was safely tucked into a cocoon of blankets, Tina never considered that they’d lied to her. But sometimes even mother’s and father’s conceal the truth. So when six months later she has to be torn away from her Mama’s limp hand by her much drier eyed little sister, she stared in disbelieve which soon gave way to disgust. The tiny otter had frozen mid jump and its shiny brown coat had faded into cream. It seemed that even love could not defeat death. 

Later that night the sisters were wrapped up in each other. Together on the single bed they refused to hear the sounds of their stern Aunt, stalking downstairs. 'I'll never have a tattoo' Tina promised silently to herself. Queenie repeated her sister's thought out loud, then hugged her tighter. 

“You might not have a choice, Teenie,” Tina had shrugged, but she’d already made up her mind. 

Surely if she hadn’t loved her parents, their deaths wouldn’t have hurt so much. Queenie said nothing, but buried her face deeper into her sisters dressing gown. Tina stroked her hair, while adding another brick to the wall she’s slowly building up around her. 

\------------

She’s in her second year at Ilvermony when the girl in the bed next to her screams. Tina watches alone from her bed as the rest of the dorm rushes over to comfort their friend, their plaits flying. 

“Anna, Anna, what’s wrong?” they chatter around her, as the girl cries, pink in the face. 

Tina hovers awkwardly, her feet dangling off her mattress. She’s spent almost two years living with these girls, and she’s not really made friends with any of them. She doesn’t want to stay up all night talking about Oliver, the Wampus beater with the handsome shoulders. (Although she does admit he’s gorgeous, the way his long fringe flops over his face, highlighting his high cheekbones). But Tina doesn’t want to talk about him the whole time. She wants to discuss that new spell they’ve been taught about in transfiguration, the one that conquers rope out of mid-air. But apparently that’s ‘boring’, and so she stays quiet and reads her textbooks alone, while the other girls swap gossip and do each other’s hair.

“Anna?” one of the other girls hugs the hysterical one round the shoulders. Crying louder and throwing up her hands in defeat, the Anna pulls up her night-dress higher to reveal her knee. There sits a humble crab, which scuttles back and forth, blinking its beady eyes up at the crowd.

The air is filled with girlish squeals. Tina pulls her legs up, and stuffs them under the covers, biting her lips anxiously, not wanting to get too close. 

“Whose is it?” a girl asks, staring shamelessly, her button nose almost touching the Anna’s thigh. The crab’s claw takes a snap at her, and more screaming occurs. The girl cartoonishly stumbles back, and collapses on the floor in a heap. 

“Sebastian Buchan,” Anna admits, shaking her head, embarrassed tears on her cheeks. 

Tina swallows hard, bottom lip wobbling, feeling her stress. Why would she admit to it? She would rather throw herself off the east tower. The gossip that Anna Abrams has the tattoo of Sebastian Buchan will be half way round the school by tomorrow. 

“How?” “When?” “Where?” Little voices buzzed like bees, determined to get every single piece of information, from the first hand source. 

“Oh it’s so romantic!” “What does it feel like?” “I just can’t wait until I have one,” they all gush one on top of another. 

Tina curls her fingers tight against her sheets, anxiety clawing at her throat. 

“I’m not sure,” Anna says complaintive, calming even preening a little at all the jealous stares she’s receiving from her peers, “I’ve been sitting next to him in charms and last week a- a stencil of a crab appeared,”

Appreciative ‘oohs’ appeared from all around. Encouraged by this reaction, Anna continues.

“And then yesterday,” she pauses for dramatic effect, “he kissed me,”

An explosion might’ve gone off in the dorm room, from how loud the girl’s examinations were. Tina resisted the urge to press her hands over her ears. Looking down at her watch, she finds it is two o’clock in the morning. ‘Isn’t anyone else bothered by the noise?’ She thinks peevishly. Looking over at the twittering birds she sighs. No, clearly not. The other girls are too busy either vividly creating, or describing, their own first kiss. She can’t even imagine it. The only kisses she ever receives are from Queenie, and those are light sisterly pecks on the cheek. All she has for reference for ‘those’ sort of kisses, is the faint memory of her parents embracing, which fills her with an intense sadness she immediately abhors and wants to be rid of. Filled with these conflicting feelings- sadness, anger, plus and a intense desire to escape, Tina breaks.

“For Mercy Lewis’s sake, can’t you all be quiet? Some people are trying to sleep!” she cries harshly. 

Half a dozen little faces turn to her in surprise. And then disdain. 

“What’s wrong Goldstein?” Anna asks, her voice full of concern, “it’s perfectly natural,”

Tina looks away, trying to hide the tears dripping down her cheeks.

“Porpentina, don’t be a spoilsport,” chimes in a brusque girl called Hannah, tossing her braid maturely, “even you’re going to get one sometime,” 

“I won’t,” Tina says, determinedly staring at a notch on her bedpost. The other girls giggle nervously. 

“Of course you will,” Anna says, calmly, “everyone does-“

“I WON’T!” Tina shouts, red in the face, hands trembling. She whips open her sheets and runs out of the room, slamming the door against shocked laughter and Anna’s hurt expression, searching for her favourite prefect. She eventually finds the upperclassman tiredly searching through some cue cards. Tina explains to her slippers about what happened, about the noise and how she just wanted to sleep. The prefect is kind, but not understanding. 

“Are you sure you don’t want to give them a few more minutes of excitement, Miss Goldstein?” she asks, rolling back her sleeves to glance fondly at a prancing pony on her wrist, not noticing Tina’s shocked grimace, “getting your first tattoo is a big moment in anyone’s life,”

Tina crutches her teeth together, imagining the golden pony turning from, gold, to yellow, to white.

“I’m sure,” she says spits, and the prefect gives her a strange look, but does as she bid. 

She receives a cascade of dirty looks as she climbs back into bed, after the dorm has been quietened and the candles blown out. Hannah even goes as far to pinch her, whispering meanly in her ear. 

“Maybe your dream will come true, Miss perfect,” she hisses spitefully, then speaks louder so the whole room can hear, “Miss plain, prickly, porcupine,” and there are murmurs of agreement and cruel mutterings. 

Tina ignores them and burrows under her blanket, ‘your wrists are plain, stomach plain, thighs plain,’ she repeats to herself until her nerves finally calm down enough for her to sleep. 

Tina doesn’t see how adorable (though admittedly short) the weeks of Anna and Sebastian’s relationship is. She doesn’t see the sweet notes passed to each other in between classes, the longing looks or the innocent promises of ‘forever’ that only thirteen year-old's can give. She does, however see, Anna’s red rimmed eyes in charms class two months later. And happens to over hear the gossip at breakfast- that Sebastian was seen French kissing Hannah in the owlery. Tina rolls her eyes and turns the page of her transfiguration textbook, stuffing a piece of toast into her mouth, satisfied. If you’re alone, no one can hurt you. 

\----------

In her seventh year though, people began to notice. Thankfully first- it was Queenie. Her sister had snuck into the head girl’s bathroom to do Tina’s hair for the last Christmas ball she’d ever attend. Her fingers were gentle as they braided milky mistletoe into her long dark locks, and her eyes had just fluttered shut in relaxation when-

“Hey Teenie,” her sister approached her casually, “where are your tattoos?” Tina pulled her hair abruptly from her sister’s grip, her nerves standing to attention.

“What do you mean?” she said vaguely, pretending to busy herself with the strap on her shoe so Queenie couldn’t see her face.

“Your tattoos,” Queenie said plaintively, and Tina feels her eyes crawl on her neck and back. The sheer white material of her dress lets her skin be shown, “I can hear you thinking about them all the time, but I’ve never actually seen one,” 

She stays silent, willing her guards to stay in place. Queenie digs her in the ribs cheekily, enjoying the fact she has to work for the information.

“Come on!” she says playfully, “I’ll show you mine, if you show me yours,”

Tina’s mouth falls open and with it her defences come crumbling down. 

“What? You?” she says croakily, spinning around to gape at her sister.

“Well yeah, of course,” Queenie says obliviously, before noticing she can now dive into her sister’s mind. Tina can feel her sifting through her thoughts, and she hangs her head in shame, as Queenies toothy grin morphs into a concerned frown. 

“None at all?” Queenie asks her seriously, “but Tina, how is that even possible?”

It’s not that strange,” she says defensively, folding in on herself, “I’m only seventeen,”

This, of course, was not entirely true. She may be seventeen, but it’s still 1918. Anna’s luck had continued throughout the years, and Tina knew for a fact that Hannah now had at least four (she’d seen the various animals when they’d been getting changed after quidditch practice). Many girls in seventh and sixth years wore promise rings, or spoke of elaborate ‘coming out’ parties where older officers had whisked them off their feet. Some even wore engagement rings, pressed on them by wizards graduated, old enough to join the war in Europe. Those girls boasted happily of wedding dresses and flowers and how terrible the wait was between each of their beaus’ letters. Tina watched this alone, from the library, in which piles of books hid her from the outside world. ‘I don’t need all that nonsense’ she told herself plainly, ‘I’m going to be an auror, I can’t be an auror and a wife’. And yet something always seemed to be lodged in her throat these days. She didn’t want to poke it. She fears she might already know what it’ll say if she does. ‘Lonely’. 

“But, but,” Queenie is almost confused now, “surely you’ve seen yours, you’ve loved someone... haven’t you?” her sister has almost gone cross eyed with the effort of wracking her own brains and shifting through Tina’s mind. 

“Not really,” Tina admits, shaking her head, “I suppose I’ve liked people before, but I’ve just never got close enough,” she trails off at her sister’s sad look. Not wanting a depressing lecture, she interrupts whatever comforting words Queenie is planning to say. 

“But how do you even know if a tattoo is yours anyway,” she says dismissively, attempting to hide how curious she actually is on the subject. Queenie sucks on her bottom lip in thought. 

“It’s hard to explain,” she says slowly, looking out into the distance at the bathrooms stained glass windows, “It’s like a call, or a feeling, you see it and then suddenly- oh it’s me!” she smiles happy in remembrance, and Tina shuffles her feet together awkwardly.

“What animal?” she asks her softly.

“A butterfly,” her sister replies wistfully, “I was ‘hanging out’ with Edmund, and then suddenly ‘poof’ there it was,” she lifts up her sparkling green dress to reveal a spaniel sitting perfectly on her thigh, it’s tail waggling at Tina, “he’s the one taking me to ball tonight,” 

“Oh,” Tina says, sadly. When did her baby sister become so grown up? She’s going to a ball with a date, with who she shares a tattoo. Tina’s not even going with any friends (she doesn’t really have any). She was just going to stand by the punch bowel and enjoy the music. Queenie gives her a sympathetic glance.

“You look beautiful,” she says reassuringly, “Maybe someone will ask you to dance?” Queenie reaches for her hand and squeezes it, “then perhaps we’ll finally get to see what Tina Goldstein’s tattoo looks like,”

Tina gives her sister a small smile. Unfortunately, Queenie she was right. 

The ball room was set up to be a proper winter in wonderland. Shining icicles glittered on the ceiling, a fifty foot Christmas tree towered over the waltzing students, while the band played a gentle melody. Everything seemed to be lit with what could only be tiny fairy’s, glowing in giant hovering baubles. Tina takes a tentative sip from her third cup of eggnog forlornly, watching Queenie spin gracefully under the lights, her date following her with avid devotion. 

“No date tonight, Goldstein?” it’s Anna. Her childish canary hair,has sweetened to a mature strawberry blonde, and done in an elaborate twist on the top of her head. Her dress is one of delicate gold and Tina can’t help but notice it’s draped in such a way to hide her knee. 

“Ah no, not tonight,” she gives her a tight smile, and Anna nods back knowingly. 

“Well, that makes two of us then,” she sighs, grabbing a herself a drink and leaning closer to her. She smells of lavender, Tina thinks absently, “Although may I say Goldstein, you do look beautiful tonight,” Anna smiles at her, and Tina flushes, her heart racing a little faster.

“Thank you,” she mumbles, agreeing but unable to reciprocate. 

They stand in silence, Tina twiddling her thumbs, not wanting to leave but not knowing what to say. Every now and again she flicks her eyes towards Anna, who is casually surveying the crowd and tapping her foot to the music’s beat. Tina notices she also has small swallow sat on her freckled neck. ‘What would it be like kiss it?’, Tina daydreams, ‘would she let me?’ 

Anna sighs, and Tina prepares herself to see her walk away. 

“So, you want to be an auror, is that right?” she asks, blue eyes twinkling, looking genuinely interested. 

Tina’s heart swells. She’s already beat this subject to death with her transfiguration and defence against the dark arts teachers. Queenie has heard her talk about her future career since she was eleven, and she knows her sister only has so much patience for it. She doesn’t have anyone else to talk to. So with a large smile on her face, Tina talks passionately about her hopes and dreams. Growing in confidence at Anna’s friendly questions, she even ventures to ask the girl what she herself wants to do (healer, mother, move back to California). 

Tina’s nostrils burn with drink as she hits her with another well timed joke, and Anna laughs a carefree joyful sound. The band had just started up a brighter, jazzier tune. Many more couples, as well as groups of girls, were excitedly pulling their friends out onto the ballroom floor. 

Anna sighs again and wipes a tear from one eye. The she holds out a delicate hand, perfectly manicured. 

“Do you want to dance, Tina?” she asks smiling. 

“Yes,” Tina blurts out, a bit too fast and too loud. But Anna doesn’t mind, grasping her hand and dragging her out into the crowd.

Smiling stupidly Tina bites her lip, looking down at their clasped hands. A shadow of something is fluttering at Anna’s wrist, hidden behind a large ornamental diamond bracelet. She raises their hands up to the light to get a closer look and the bracelet slides down her arm. This exposes a sight that makes Tina’s blood run cold. Queenie was wrong. It wasn’t a call. Instead it was like seeing half of herself. The majestic thunderbird flapped and swooped seemingly in greeting and she halts in shock. Anna too, stops in confusion, and turns to look at where Tina is currently blinking rapidly. Both pause for a second, Anna looking between the happy creature and Tina’s guilty face. Then she violently rips her hand out of her grip. 

“What, what is this?” Anna says voice high pitched. She begins rubbing violently at her risk. 

“I’m sorry,” Tina stutters, watching in sharp pain as the thunderbird becomes distressed at its new owner’s angry actions. 

“Does this mean…you?” Anna looks like she’s going to be sick, her face red and blotchy. Tina can feel other couple’s curious gazes on them. Two students, one pale, one tomato, and very clearly not dancing. Tears fill her eyes, threatening to spill over. She’s unable to move, her feet seemingly frozen to the floor, forced to live out her worst nightmare. 

“But,” Anna whispers, more confused now, looking at her new accessory with clear derision, “it’s not natural,” her eyebrows transform into mean question marks, a perfect pair to her sharp words. Sharp words that break Tina’s heart in two.

Stumbling away, she’s almost blinded by her tears. She clumsily makes her way out of the ball room, crashing into embracing couples, and ripping the hem of her dress on her heels. ‘Stupid, stupid, stupid,’. She couldn’t tell Queenie afterwards if she’d said it out loud or in her head. But anything was better than her hurried thoughts, where ‘unlovable’ and ‘abnormal’ floated in and out. She races up the stairs, not daring to hide in her dorm room, not where Anna could easily burst in. Instead she feels her way towards the head girl bathroom, where she collapses on the bathroom tiles. It turns out there are worse things than getting a tattoo and not loving the person who loves you back. It’s the another way round which really cuts you. And when that person is a girl… She buries her head in her arms and sobs.  
And there, Queenie finds her in the morning, curled up in a ball shaking, tear tracks dried on her face.

“Oh Teenie,” her sister cries, feeling her pain and crawling to sit beside her, stroking her hair. 

Tina moves a mattress into the head girl’s bathroom the next week. Although she can survive Anna’s cold looks, and the sneaky glares and giggles from her closest friends. She finds she can’t survive the nightmares she is plagued with when she sleeps in her dorm room- Where she is forced to relive her thunderbirds silent cry of distress before she ran away. 

\----------

Tina Goldstein is twenty-five years old, and she still doesn’t have a tattoo. But she does have a nice apartment with her sister and her ideal job in the auror department. So things aren’t all bad. Really. In some ways her affliction can work to her advantage. Mrs Esposito was first a bit wary of Queenie’s bubbly personality and sweet nature, seemingly expecting men to be swimming in and out of their rooms. But when unveiling the lack of marks on her skin, the old-fashioned woman finally became satisfied with the sisters application. 

“Oh, you are a proper sort then,” she said sounding pleased, nodding at Tina, “when I was your age you know girls, weren’t expected to have any but their betrothed,” Tina had to kick Queenie under the table before she said something untoward.

Finally, after a long and offensive (for Queenie who now has at least three tattoos marked on her skin) rant about how girls these days throw their hearts around too wildly, they’re finally given the lease. 

Tina also finds it an advantage in her career. Despite their female president, men still rule the roost at MACUSA. And most find it easier to believe that a woman is ‘less likely to run off, and get married’, if they have clear evidence that the woman in question won’t. 

And by now Tina’s sure she won’t. What wizard would take a prickly, law-abiding, awkward, bisexual, unlovable witch? None she knows. And she can’t get married to a woman, even if one wanted her. But it’s fine. It's fine. At least that’s what she tells Queenie. 

“It’s fine,” she tells her sister over her morning coffee.

“It’s fine,” she tells a leery neighbour, shaking her arm out of his grip.

“It’s fine,” she tells the motherly witch with the knowing smile and sticky lipstick, in the toilets one afternoon.

“It’s fine,” she tells herself late at night, unable to sleep, feeling the cold air blow into the blankets of her rickety single bed. 

“It’s fine,” the young man says, his hand curled protectively over the wound his ‘mother’ beat into him. Tina draws him close, murmuring words of comfort. At least she has her sister, who is able to lift her up, encourage, let her be loved, even if not in the way she sometimes craves. Tina doesn’t think Credence has ever had anyone like that in his entire life. She can tell by the way he hungrily presses into her, and memorizes her soft expression with disbelieving eyes. She so she hugs him tighter, and leaves him with a promise that she’ll fix this. She has to fix this. 

Tina doesn’t have a tattoo or her job anymore. But she does have her apartment. Even if the early December snow is creeping throw cracks and pooling in small puddles all over their floor. ‘But you can still watch over him,’ Tina tells herself, biting her chapped lips, huddling against her favourite hot dog stand. ‘You promised’.


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Tina's body accidentally becomes exposed, causing Newt to ask a terrible question.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello! Sorry this took a while, I'm kinda finding this idea hard to write even though I love it so much. But I'll get there.  
> So here's chapter two, set after the events of movie 1 but before Newt leaves.  
> Enjoy!

Newt’s eyes rake up and down her body. Tina self-consciously crosses her arms over her chest, trying to ignore how her damp, white dress is stuck to her like a second skin.

She had been carefully helping him feed the occamy's when the grindylow’s had popped themselves out of their bubbles. Newt immediately leapt into action, Tina hot at his heels, to save the gasping creatures. After many irritated ‘buggers!’ by a certain British wizard, and multiple, painful, finger shaped bruises wrapped around her legs and his forearms; the pair eventually managed to transport each wriggling grindylow back to water. The result, of course, is that they are now both soaked to the bone. 

Newt actually looked more or the less the same, despite his drowned rat appearance. Both his dark pants, and waist coat saved him from her fate. At first she’d been too busy giggling, shaking the water out of her ears to notice anything untoward. Then she'd felt his hot gaze on her. Thank Circe she put on her shift this morning, but it’s only a thin barrier to the ‘rest’ of her. 

No one, not even Queenie, has ever seen this much of her adult body before. She has always made a point not to flaunt her unloved skin, to hide her shame. A rosy pink makes its way down her neck and across her chest. 

Newt, eyes dark, raises one hand to his hair, some strands have stuck to his forehead, and drops of water drip down his cheek bones. His tongue darts out to wet his lips. Tina trembles. 

Slowly she raises her wand, Newt’s eyes following her movements. His jaw tightens as she adjusts her slippery fingers around it’s hilt. Hot wind bursts out of her wand’s tip, drying them both.

Her dress is now uncomfortably stiff, but thankfully, no longer see through. Newt’s fringe has been forced backwards by the blast, forming a wave on top of his head. This helps accentuates his wide, horror-struck eyes. 

“Merlin’s beard Tina,” he stutters, wringing his hands, “I’m so sorry,” 

“It’s fine,” she says softly, honestly. That’s what is terrifying actually, how much it is fine. She’s embarrassed, sure, but not mad. Bottom lip wobbling, she examines her cuticles with a reverence to avoid his avid gaze. 

“I’m glad the grindylows are okay,” she says attempting to move his attention, from where it’s still lingering on her arms and legs. She turns to the massive, floating, square of bobbing water, where the naughty creatures wave their spindly arms, and grin down at them cheekily. She waves back bemusedly, smiling, “what were their names again?” she asks Newt over her shoulder. 

“Tina,” Newt says tentatively. She can hear him take a slow, careful step towards her, “where are your tattoos?” 

She shuts her eyes in pain. There it was. Her secret. Revealed to a man she’s come to admire, who has opened up to her a new world of magic. Newt has at least one tattoo, she caught it by accident a few days ago. She’d be able to see it now if she had enough courage to turn round- a small raven head poking out of his socks. It occasionally likes to fly round his ankle. It's probably from the picture of the beautiful girl he keeps in his case. And sure it’s not placed on his desk like a normal man would place his beau. But Newt Scamander isn’t a normal man. 

‘It’s out of the way, covered in dust,’ a little voice in the back of her mind tries hopefully. Tina ignores it. ‘She’s most likely a girlfriend, a fiancé,’ she thinks, biting the inside of her cheek, hard, ‘you however, can’t even get one single person to love you,’. She grips her elbows tightly, swallowing a sob.

“Tina?” Newt’s taken another step. She can feel his breath on the back of her neck. 

“Excuse me, please,” she says, her tears have not yet fallen, but instead are caught in her voice. 

“Of course,” he says quietly. A perfect gentleman. A perfect, kind, brilliant, compassionate gentleman. Dammit. 

She turns on her heel and walks briskly through the case, her eyes focused on her feet. Finally, she makes it to the shed, where Dougal is sitting on the steps. Brown eyes, large and caring, he ambles his way over to her. Cautiously he reaches out a sliver paw and takes her hand, in a fatherly manner. Blinking hard, she looks desperately around for something to save her. What her eyes land on is Frank’s empty cage. A thunderbird. 

Detangling her hand gently from the demiguise’s grip, she slowly stumbles towards the tower of red rocks. The blue Arizona sky is a clear blue, seemingly endless. This must be where he’s flying now, the glorious creature. Powerful, sensitive to danger, able to bring a storm with the flap of his wings. Tina hadn’t even tried to hide her admiration when Frank took flight a week ago. She never thought she’d see one again, and definitely not a real one. Depositing herself at the base of the enclosure, feeling scratching sand creeping between toes, smiling pathetically at Dougal whose furry eyebrows are questioning her sanity. Then she puts her head in her hands, and sobs. Dry, heaving sobs, that make her shoulders shake and chest heave. She’d failed.

A furry chin rests against her shin. After a while a strong hand sits on her shoulder.

“I’m sorry, I had no right to ask,” Newt apologises, his voice full of emotion, “if it’s any consolation, I only really have one,” Tina wipes her eyes, shaking her head. 

“It’s not that…I may not have any tattoos, but at least I have Queenie,” she sniffs, “but Credence, he didn’t have anyone,”

Newt’s nails dig into her skin.

“And now he’s dead,” she throws up her hands in defeat, “without ever knowing love,”

“That’s not true,” Newt says thickly. Tina scoffs, curling her arms under her knees.

“It’s not,” he persists, kneeling beside her, hands interlocked passionately “I saw you in that death potion, Tina, he…he may not have known love, but he did know care,”

She looks him dead in the eye. His eyes are open and honest and to her surprise wet. 

“Are you sure?” she asks childishly, tucking a piece of hair behind her ear. A stray tear sneaks out of her eye, and she lets in run down her nose. Newt’s arm quivers slightly, but it stays put, lingering near her knee. 

“Completely,” Newt says solemnly, “he was listening to you, he would’ve calmed down, if it wasn’t for…” he trails off awkwardly, avoiding her gaze. 

“For MACUSA,” she finishes darkly. And he nods vehemently, crossing his legs and sitting beside her.

They stay there for a while, in a comfortable silence, shoulders almost, but not quite brushing. The sun must be going down, for a beautiful sunset falls over the Arizonian valley, the pink light dusting their faces in its glow. 

“Sorry if this offends you,” Newt says quietly, “but why do you want to work there? They were horrible to you, to Credence,” Tina chews on this thought, tossing it round her brain. 

“It’s don’t know,” she says at last, “it’s not about them I suppose, not really. It’s about helping people, protecting those in need from danger,” he nods, and she continues, though a little defeated.

“That job is part of me, but maybes it’s not for me,” she sighs, rocking backwards and forwards slightly, “I do like rules,” Newt chuckles, and she rolls her eyes self-deprecatingly, smiling a little, “but I won’t stop doing something just right, because MACUSA says not to,”

Newt plays with the hem of his sleeve, his hand a wing’s breath away from her pinky. Dougal has settled comfortably on her other side, picking some sort of weed out of her hair.

“I’d think you’d be a Slytherin, if you went to Hogwarts,” he states after a time. 

“Really?” she says affectionately. 

“Yes, they don’t break their own rules you see,” he says, knowingly, “at first I thought you were like my brother, following the ministry despite his misgivings, because ‘it’ll all turn out all right in the end’” he brushes his hand lightly against her own, and tiny electric sparks buzz in her fingertips. 

“But I don’t think you’d stand up for anything you didn’t believe in,” his cheeks are red, and he’s studying their surroundings almost too intently. 

“No, I don’t think I would,” she says slowly, touched that this man has thought so much about her character, but not knowing how to articulate it. 

“What house were you in?” she finally asks shyly. 

“Hufflepuff,” Newt says proudly, puffing up his chest, and she smiles “the best house of them all,”

“You’ll never guess what house I was in,” she says looking round Frank’s old enclosure. 

“Which?” 

“Thunderbird,” she says equally proud, “it was the greatest pleasure in the world to finally be able to see one,” she turns to him earnestly. But his face is clouded in shock. 

“Thunderbird?” he asks breathlessly. 

“Yes, why?” she asks confused. He stammers, and she’s about to press him again when.

“Teenie? You down there?” Queenie calls down into the case.

“Yes!” she shouts back.

“You’d better come up here,” her sister yells, “there’s a letter on the table addressed to you. From president Picurey,” 

“Mercy Lewis!” Tina exclaims, and Dougal pats her cheek happily, eyes a brilliant blue, “do you mind?” she asks Newt, her confusion forgotten. He shakes his head, a tight smile drawn on his face. Tina rushes up and out of the case, to where a crisp envelope is waiting. 

She doesn’t see the British wizard left sitting flabbergasted, head rested against the jaggered rocks. Doesn’t see him press a gentle palm to his left shoulder, over his mustard waistcoat. Doesn’t see the faint outline of a wing, not yet coloured, not yet animated, but there none the less. And if Newt sits all through dinner with a silly grin on his face, that’s his business. 

\---------

She thanks him profusely at the docks. For her job, for his perspective, for his everything. She’ll miss him. 

He seems hesitant to leave too, lingering close to her, unfazed about letting the busy dock slowly empty as they say goodbye. 

Newt grins, promising to not need investigating anymore (Tina doesn’t believe that for a single second- and surprisingly she loves it). That he’ll merely return to his ministry, deliver his manuscript.

“I’ll look out for it,” she says truthfully, “Fantastic Beasts and Where to Find Them,” She doesn’t know if he has a title yet, but she’s been thinking of a few. His answers to her interested questions, generally involved the beast and its normal habitat. Besides, she likes the idea of being able to imagine where each creature they live, and to be able to see him with them.

Newt’s looking at her with enchanted wonder, a mesmerised state which leads her to hope. It leads her to ask desperately, if she had a chance, any chance at all.  
He caresses a strand on her hair, and her breath catches. She can still feel his warm touch on her skin, even while he walks away. Then he’s back. And her breath stops for a different reason. 

Because she sees it. A golden thunderbird, swooping along his freckled neck, silently greeting her happily. She hangs her head, calming her heartbeat. ‘It's okay, Tina,’ she tells herself, swallowing hard, ‘it’ll be fine, he’ll be kind, it’s fine’. But he’s not coming back to affront her or even to say goodbye.

He came back to ask if he could give her a copy of his book in person. He wants to see her again, wants to get to know her. ‘Why?’ she thinks dazedly, bubbling with joy while giving her consent, ‘what does this mean? Does this mean…could it mean…he likes her back?’. He’s certainly happy, grinning, nodding, hesitating on the boats gangway. There’s a spring in her step, as she skips away.

It’s not till later, while shedding her clothes, about to step into a steaming bath, when she sees it. She rushes to the foggy mirror, heart pounding, leaning as close as she possibly can. Can it be? Her cry of delight echoes around the room. Although it was only an outline, could even be a no-maj creation at first sight. But it’s not. It’s a magic mark, and it's the the most beautiful magic of all. 

A tiny dragon is sleeping peacefully, curled up under her breast.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hope you enjoyed, let me know what you thought!


	3. Chapter 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Newt sits at a bar and thinks about one Tina Goldstein.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello again!  
> This chapter is from Newt's pov, from the time after the events from the first movie til the start of the second one.  
> Hope everyone likes it!

Dear Tina,

Yes, Pickett is feeling better and no, strictly speaking bowtruckles aren’t supposed to have chocolate cake. Not supposed to have chocolate at all actually, they’re a like muggle dogs in that regard (as Pickett found out). However, I’m afraid living in my breast pocket makes him susceptible for dangling into my dinner time after time. I showed him your letter, and he had the gal the look ashamed the little bugger. How’d you manage to do that? I was telling him off while he was throwing up and he still managed to poke his tongue out at me. When I come back to New York you’ll have to teach me your secrets.  
To answer your other question there are ten types of purebred dragon, although there are some rare hybrids. I have enclosed my notes on the matter, although it would be easier if I knew the colour of the creature in question. Dragons are my favourite beasts did you know? I’d love to have one in the case, but I don’t think one would fit.  
I’m so glad to hear everyone is treating you with respect in the auror offices. Feel free to tell me if you want me to set my nundu on anyone. That new case does sound interesting, despite you not being able to properly write about it. How far do you think you would have to travel for it? Perhaps when I come over after my book is published, you’ll get to speak more freely. It’s only a couple of weeks to go until the launch, and I’m expecting my travel permit to arrive any day now. Trust me when I say I’m looking forward, almost more than anything, to see you again.

Hope you hear from you soon, 

Newt.

P.S Queenie will tell you where she’s been going in secret if you just ask her. Unlike my brother and I, you two are close friends, and she wouldn’t lie to you. I’m sure it’s nothing to worry about. 

 

Newt rests his elbows despondently on the bar, and orders a second butter beer. His brother is late. Very late. And that can only mean one thing. His travel pass has been denied- again. For the third bloody time. He’d tried to get one as soon as he arrived home, but to no avail. Apparently if you manage to kidnap the most dangerous wizard of all time (Grindlewald), in a foreign city, that the most suspicious wizard of all time (Dumbledore), sent you to, the British ministry of magic won’t let you leave the country. ‘Ever again it seems like,’ Newt thinks frustratedly watching Pickett drinking the dregs of his last drink.

“If you get drunk, I’m telling Tina,” he warns the bowtruckle as he uses his leafy hands to stuff the foamy liquid into his mouth. 

“Who’s Tina? A new hippogriff?” his brother falls down beside him, greeting the bartender with a cheery wave. 

“No,” Newt says disgruntled, and Theseus cocks an interested eyebrow. 

“A girl? Newton, shall I have to tell mother?” he teases, shaking off his coat and pulling a white scoll out of his pocket and banging it on the counter. Blood red writing is never a positive sign. Newt takes a hard swig of his drink. 

“Because if it is, you should invite her to dinner with Leta and I,” Theseus continues pointedly, “if that’d make you actually come,” he smoothly orders a whisky, and Newt rolls his eyes.

They’ve asked him over about five times now, and Newt’s refused every single invitation. He can’t imagine a worse night if he’s honest; Theseus guilt tripping him into writing to father, and Leta being kind. Theseus knows he hasn’t spoken to father for nine years, Leta knows she hasn’t spoken to him in nine years. And Newt knows he’d end up drinking too much, talking too little and leaving to early with a bad taste in his mouth, and uncomfortable feelings in his chest. He’s been hoping that these small catch ups at the leaky cauldron will ward his brother off, but it seems not. 

Although, it would be better, Newt thinks a little dreamily, with Tina on his arm. Having someone on his side, to talk too, to hold his hand when things inevitably got awkward. Who Theseus would be able to talk to about auror business, who Leta would be able to question about the latest fashions from American (though he doesn’t think Tina would know much about that).  
Tina’s eyes would be big and bright, reflecting pools of flame from the candlelight, and he’d pour her another glass of elvish wine, his knee bumping hers under the table. Then they’d refuse coffee and cake because ‘he’s got to feed the creatures,’ but he’d walk her back to his place for a cup of tea anyway. And then it might even be too late for her to go back to her hotel, so she’d have to stay the night. In his bed. Merlin. 

A hot flush spreads over Newt’s cheeks, and he feels his heart flutter under his shirt. He knows without looking that the thunderbird painted on his upper chest will be pruning approvingly. He didn’t think anyone else would ever love him, and every time he catches the creature in a mirror he has to bite his cheek to stop himself smiling. He wonders if Tina’s body contains his own mark. Newt can’t shake the memory of his bare pearly skin, completely unblemished. How could anyone not love that shy, passionate, beautiful person? A proud growl rumbles in his chest at the thought of his being the only one, his a green dragon hidden somewhere on her body. 

His brother is smirking at him knowingly. Pickett is burping bubbles, and about to wander off the edge of the bar.

“Bugger off Thes,” he mumbles, gentling scooping up the bowtruckle and placing him safety back in his pocket. 

“It is! My brother’s met a girl!” Theseus punches him on the arm, almost falling off his stool in delight, “well come on then, invite her over, I want to meet my brother’s future wife,”

“I said bugger off,” Newt says, crossing his arms over his chest to make himself a smaller target. 

“Where’d you meet her? The ministry? The publishing house?” his brother ignores Newt’s posture, too busy attempting to work out the mystery, “you actually should get her to meet mother, she’d be ever so disappointed if-”

“Theseus I can’t,” Newt says, looking over at his denied travel pass like it’s caught dragon pox. Theseus’s mouth falls open in a soft ‘o’. 

“That’s why you want to go back to New York? She’s American?” His brothers voice is soft with surprise and sympathy, "Newt if you'd just said" 

“Yes well,” he finishes his drink in one gulp. And quickly orders another. His brother slaps a consoling hand on his shoulder, and he tries not to flinch. 

“I did wonder about that bee behind your ear,” Theseus says causally sipping his whisky. Newt raises both hands to his ears in shock. 

“What bee?” he asks defiantly, attempting to look has his reflection on the smooth surface on the table. 

“You have a bee, behind your ear,” Theseus says obviously, pointing at his left side, “I take it that’s not her then,”

“No,” Newt says blankly, holding a protective palm over his breast. Who on earth could it be? The only other girl he sees on a regular basis is Bunty, but she definitely doesn’t love him. 

“Well however it is, I’ll make sure you get back to her,” Theseus rolls up his sleeves, there’s a chirping raven by his wrist. Newt has an identical one by his ankle. It doesn’t hurt like it probably would’ve once. Besides Dougal never liked that tattoo, and always lingered on his right side when assisting him with feedings. Dougal likes the thunderbird. He’s taken to sleeping on his chest. His brother is carefully reading the red worded document, highlighting certain phrases with his wand, muttering about guidelines and engagement rings. 

“Thanks Thes,” Newt says honestly. 

“Don’t mention it, little brother,” Theseus ruffles his hair like he’s five. Newt lets him. 

\--------------

Dear Tina,

Happy to hear that your dragon mystery has been solved! A welsh green, truly a magnificent beast. You’re an actual wonder you know- I don’t even think my assistant would’ve have identified them on their oval shaped snout and their smaller than average spines. Most people just notice their emerald green colour! If you ever came to England we could go visit them, I happen to know a valley where a particular scaly family lives.  
I’m afraid I also wish you to England for a different reason. My travel permit has been denied, so I won’t be able to make it to New York as soon as I desperately want. Perhaps you’ve seen my book has finally been released, and has actually become a bit of a success. In fact, I had to search through my mail to find your letter, I’m currently being bombarded with letters from ‘fans’. I can’t tell you how sorry (and angry) that I can’t make the trip over to see you. My brother and Leta keep asking me why every time I see them I have the need to pace a hole in the carpet- and it’s all because I’m itching to see my New York friends again.  
Apparently Theseus has another idea about getting me over, but Merlin knows if he’ll bloody manage it. It’s the auror department that’s prevented me from travelling in the first place! I swear all auror’s are bunch of careerist hypocrites, with no care at all about a man’s feelings- and my brother is the worst of them all.  
Hopefully my next letter will come with good news, and I’ll be booking my ticket for the next ship over.

Hope to hear from you soon,

Newt.

P.S I’ve got my fingers crossed for you. I’m sure you’ll get the job; they couldn’t pick a better person.

 

Newt loosens his bow tie, and takes his third glass of champagne. His book is selling well. Astounding well in fact, and although he tries not to look at his bank account, the women in his office keep sending him sideline glances which they didn’t bother doing before. He knows it’s not because of his case by his side but instead the expensive coat he finally embellished in, after his old blue one got an unfortunate hit from a fire crab. 

And it’s his book that’s got Theseus, Leta and Bunty dragging him to a pub to celebrate, despite his insistence he’d rather be home. Or with his creatures. Or in New York in a raven witch’s arms. 

“To Newton Scamander!” Theseus booms, one fist slapping down hard on the table, and the girls smiling raise their glasses. Newt winces at the other patron’s stares, and attempts to hide behind his glass “my funny little brother, and his genius book- Fantastic Beasts and Where to Find Them!” 

“To Fantastic Beasts and Where to Find Them!” Bunty cheers, her cheeks red, champagne dripping down her wrist thanks to her enthusiasm. 

“Congratulations,” Leta purrs, placing a warm hand on his arm. She’s being doing that all day, and he’s too embarrassed to tell her it makes him extremely uncomfortable. So he ignores it, or tries to, taking another large sip of champagne letting the bubbles flow down his throat. 

“Have you even read it Thes?” Newt says accusingly, the alcohol making him want to be a tad more confrontational than usual. The first official copy sits in the middle of the table like a centre piece. All three of his companion’s gaze often flicks to it- one longingly, two smugly- and he knows what they’re all thinking. All of them are wrong. 

“I don’t have to, I’ve heard enough over the years to piece it together,” Theseus says dismissively, waving a hand. Pickett sticks his tongue out at him, and Newt silently agrees. 

“It’s a great book,” Bunty says nodding happily, “you did a wonderful job,” she tucks a stray hair behind her ear, smiling shyly at him. Newt thanks her and she beams, both of them missing Theseus’s smirk and how Leta rolls her eyes. 

“How’d you come up with the title? I don’t remember you having a proper one at school,” Leta asks him, pleasantly, causing Bunty’s smile to fall off her face. She’s now rubbing his arm, causing Newt to clench his teeth in disgust. How can she do that at the same time his brother’s hand is tucked round her waist?

“Someone…suggested it to me,” he says quietly, thinking back. 

Her earnestly, her honestly ‘I’ll look out for it,’, her dark eyes filled with promise. He knew she liked him, even before he’d figured out the thunderbird belonged to her. But he didn’t know that she’d come to respect him, come to love what he loved, until she said ‘Fantastic Beasts’. Her gentleness when she’d held the occamy, her breathless wonder has Frank took off it was all real- Tina truly cared about his creatures as much as she did for Credence, and it caused his chest to ache. Caused him to touch her hair, to promise to come back, to wait anxiously for each of her letters, absorbing eagerly her thoughts all written carefully in a charming hand. 

Even now half of Tina’s letters are questions or inquiry’s about different creatures and their antics, and if he closes his eyes he can imagine she’s sitting next to him, her lilting voice humming in his ear. Her normal 'life' voice is loud and brash, but her real, private, voice is sweet and pure and it was the worst day of his life when he realised he couldn’t conjure it anymore. Merlin’s beard he’s got to get back to New York.

“Someone?” Leta cocks an elegant eyebrow, tone confused. 

“Yes,” Newt says simply, tracing a finger around the rim of his glass. He looks up carefully at the sudden silence round the table. Theseus is grinning cheekily at him, but both women are shocked, almost stunned, their wide eyes disbelievingly studying the side of his neck. Newt raises his eyebrows at them both, as his brother wolf whistles. Bunty looks down at the table, drinking deeply from her glass. Leta removes her hand quickly as if burned from his sleeve, and Newt breathes a sigh of relief. He senses rather than sees the Thunderbird, playing happily above his collar. 

“Shall I get the bill?” he asks, picking his book off the table, placing it safety into his inside pocket. 

\---------------

Dear Tina,

I haven’t heard from you in a while. Did my last letter get lost in the post? Is it because you got the case and are far away? Please write back soon, I can’t help but worry about you. Even a couple of lines to let you know where you are will do.  
Theseus has organised a ‘important meeting’ for me next week about my travel permit. Apparently as long as I agree to everything it’ll ‘be fine’. That doesn’t exactly bode well does it? But I’ll try my best for you.  
Perhaps when I finally make it over we could go visit Frank? I’ve been thinking about thunderbirds more often lately, and I’m sure you’d want to see him again. Perhaps we could take a picnic or something? 

Please, please write back soon, 

Newt

P.S I’ve got you a copy of my book. It sits on my desk where I can always see it. It’s a symbol of me keeping my promise to you. I will keep my promise to you.

 

Newt tucks the finished letter into his bottom pocket, leaning back on the ministry’s seat. He’ll post it when he gets home. For now he’s waiting for his summons for his fifth (fifth!) go at getting a travel pass. Theseus says it’ll be different this time, but he doesn’t think so. But Merlin he hopes so. 

Tina hasn’t written in weeks and it’s digging at his heart, tapping on his anxiety. Is she in trouble? Was she one of the chosen to transport Grindlewald to Europe, and now lost forever to the sea? Or even worse, has she moved on? Perhaps as afraid of his new found celebrity status as he is, not wanting to associate with a man who gets his business splayed out on newspaper headlines. Not that he reads them anymore. The damn things are full of lies. He taps his fingers against his leg restlessly. 

“It’s fine Scamander,” he tells himself quietly, “you’ve got her tattoo, she loves you,” 

‘But it’d stay even if she doesn’t anymore,’ a little voice in his brain whispers evilly. ’What if she doesn’t have yours, and thinks you don’t like her back,’ 

He taps his leg harder, thoughts running erratically. Surely his mark is there. How could it not be? He imagines another man’s mark on her skin, a galloping horse maybe or a roaring tiger, her joyful expression, and his throat tightens painfully.

God he wants her. Wants to see her, talk to her again. Look into her real eyes, that dance with fire, not just a photograph that does not do her justice carefully placed in his case. Please, oh please let him receive his pass. 

A light tug on his sleeve makes him look down. Pickett is hanging off one of his coat’s shiny button. Already seeing the inevitable, Newt waits amused for the thread to break.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Feel free to tell me what you think!


	4. Chapter 4

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Newt sits outside of Nicolas Flamel's house and says goodbye to the brightest star.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello!  
> Sorry it's been so long, it's because I've finally got holiday work. Unfortunately this might mean that there's more space between updates as I've won't have endless time to write anymore, but hopefully it means better fics because I won't be up at 3am writing a sleep deprived mess. So...yeah. I'll get there don't worry. I love this fic and have plenty of ideas, so let's keep going!  
> Hope everyone enjoys!

Newt blankly stares up at the melancholy Parisian sky. The golden sunrise rises up cautiously, as if asking if it’s sheer beauty could make up for the tragedy of the night before. It doesn’t. There are still a few stray stars that bleakly twinkle in the dawn. Only one sparkles brightly, shinning down like a second moon, over the morning. But like the others it still eventually disappears, leaving the sky alone to weep. 

“Goodbye Leta,” Newt says into the air.

They were all fine. Well not ‘fine’, but shocked enough to keep going. To eat croissants, though chewing more out of necessity than hunger, and to send a small message to a certain Hogwarts professor. To stumbled back to Flamel’s house, Newt having one consolatory hand on Theseus’s shoulder, and the other on Tina’s waist, his fingers tentatively splayed across her hip.  
But then Jacob had proposed a toast, for the group to raise a glass for the ones they’d lost. For the muggle had found not food upstairs, but a good bottle of whisky in a dusty cupboard. Theseus had gladly agreed, rolling up his sleeves to pop the cork. But his fingers had slipped on the glass and Yusuf had to pillow the bottle gently on the table. The raven that once danced on his brother’s wrist had frozen in flight. Trembling Newt had pulled up his pant leg to find that his tattoo also withered- all because the witch that put it there was dead. 

When he’d finally looked up, eyes wet, he'd found that Theseus had already made his way through half of the whisky, throat bobbing as he chugged. Yusuf was rapidly explaining what happened to an incredulous Jacob, and Nagami curled up on a chair and wrung her hands. Tina was retching in a sink, bent double over the basin, pale skin a pasty grey. 

Under normal circumstances these events would’ve caused him to leap into action. Newt would’ve taken the alcohol off his brother, counselled Jacob, hugged Tina. The niffler had whimpered into his singed coat, his injured paw tucked in close to him. Newt dizzily swayed on the spot. Her soft ‘I love you’, her skin disintegrating into dust. It was just all too much. He'd spun on his heel and walked out into the cool Paris air. Flopping down on the dewy grass of Flamel’s small garden, attempting to will away the static behind his eyes. 

And there Newt is still, watching the soft sun dangling in the sky. Enviously observing muggle men, women and children opening windows, making breakfast, happily going about their business. Their lives are shadowed by fate, but their innocence will save them from the impending future. Newt and their mismatched group however…he clutches the short grass in his hands, letting his nails jab hard into his palm.

“Mr Scamander?” Nicolas Flamel’s soft French accent cuts the air. Newt nods minutely, without turning round. A paper thin hand rests on his arm, “I’ve arranged a porkey for tomorrow morning,”

Newt hums disinterestedly. 

“You should probably get some rest,” it’s smart advice from an extremely old man, who’s seen more of the world and life than he. But it still makes Newt inwardly grumble, like he’s an eight-year-old being sent to bed. He shuffles past the pale twig of a man into the house. A gloomy fog has settled over its inhabitants, and Newt observes his friends as if through a fish bowel- distorted and disjointed from himself. 

Yusuf is sleeping on the couch, much like he was before. Except his eyes are now red-rimmed as well as limp with exhaustion. Theseus is slumped on the floor, his red hair poking out of a cobweb covered bucket. Jacob sits beside him, a hand on his brothers back, his eyes dark but open. The girls are nowhere to be found.  
A crazed panic wells up inside of Newt and he hastily spins in a circle. His imagination is wild with lack of sleep and he’s almost expecting to see a limp Tina engulfed by blue flame while an inhibited Grindlewald and strangely Dumbledore laugh relentlessly. Jacob grunts and Newt blinks stupidly at him. The American points a tired finger towards the curled staircase, before Theseus groans and he averts his attention back to the destroyed man. Newt climbs the stairs one at a time, having to pull his feet up behind him. 

There’s three clear doors on the wooden landing. One's inside is hidden by a closed door, and Newt hypothesises it is a bathroom. The other two are open and free for him to see into. The one on the right contains a rickety double bed, with unopened sheets but containing a clear martial manner. Books and photos sit on the side tables and the bed sheets are flowered and obviously lovingly picked. Then to the left there’s two plain single beds. And in one lies a girl gently stroking a snake. 

Newt watches entranced from the doorway as Tina rocks the slippery creature, her white cheek pressed against its scales. A kind of of lullaby falls from her lips, though it’s not in a language he recognises. But it’s calming and sweet and he takes a step closer planning to lie down on the bed beside them. Tina looks up, her eyes soft and sad, the fire there but no longer burning. Instead it’s like burning coals, not clearly alight but still hot. Newt wishes to fall into their warmth. He takes another step, but the floorboards bend under his weight causing a loud creak and they both wince. 

Tina motherly looks down over the snake, running her palm lovingly over its head. Then she presses a finger to her lips, and Newt has to bite down on his cheek at the sight. Two pink petals formed into a small ‘o’, over a thin elegant finger; it’s unconsciously sensual. Like her high-waisted pants that show off her narrow hips and long legs (he’s positive she dresses out of necessity, not for anything untoward. She’s not tricky like other women can be. She’s not tricky at all). 

Trying to banish some inappropriate thoughts, Newt watches as Tina untangles herself and gently presses of the bed, leaving the sleeping snake in a coil. She removed her tight leather coat, and bulky shoes, so they are able to sneak out with waking the reptile. 

“Nagami,” Tina whispers, crossing her arms over her chest, nodding her head towards the door. Newt raises his eyebrows in sympathy and understanding. A maledictus, poor girl.

“She wanted to sleep, but was scared to,” Tina squeezes her eyes shut, and leans against the wall, “I said I’d sing her to sleep,”

“The song was pretty,” Newt says, his voice no more than a low grumble. Tina inclines her head in thanks and he takes a step closer. If he could just put out his arms she would be in his embrace. But he’s too shy, too awkward, too tired to do so. So he simply lingers far too close, watching her chest rise and fall against her sooty white shirt. 

“Mama used to sing it to us,” Tina says thickly, biting her lip, “Then…after…I used to sing it Q-Queenie,” she swallows hard, bottom lip wobbling, refusing to meet his eyes. 

“Oh love,” he says, as a single tear falls down her cheek. Tina’s eyes widen, and his heart skips a beat as what he just said hits him.

“I mean…” he stutters, nerves trembling, but she grins at him shakily. (Well kind of- What’s between a smile and a sob?).

“Newt,” Tina cries, and wraps her arms around him, burying her face in his neck. He sinks into her and they sob together. 

He rubs his head against hers numbly and her shorter hair means that his skin now and again brushes hers, causing electricity to ignite down his spine. Tina rubs back, creature like, and he clutches at her, basking in their togetherness. Almost selfishly, when two men downstairs have lost the one that they love, but Newt’s still got his and he’s not letting her go. He’s never letting her go again. Never again getting to the stage where they can’t understand each other, never keeping secrets from each other. They’ve got to stay strong and they’ve got to do it together. 

Newt must’ve been muttering his rapid thoughts aloud, for Tina is nodding fervently, murmuring sincere agreements. Her lips every now and again brush against his collar, and Newt squeezes his eyes shut, willing himself not to lose his nerve. He will not ravish this woman, not in their current mental state. And not in a hallway, next to some stairs with his brother, best friend and two strangers- one, five hundred years old- below them. So instead he unwillingly unwraps his arms, takes her hand and drags her into the other bedroom, shutting the door behind them. 

Tina stares up at him blearily, her nose red, her hair puffed up on one side. Newt’s never seen anything so beautiful. 

“We’ve got to sleep,” he says, his tongue slow and stupid. 

“Right,” Tina says, cheeks red, glancing nervously at the one bed. Newt guessing the line of her thoughts and also her probable innocence, cups her cheek tenderly. She stiffens. 

“Just to sleep, okay?” he says, thumb stroking her chin, and Tina softens into his hand. 

“Okay,” she whispers back breathlessly. 

He releases her hand, and sheds his coat as Tina gingerly sits on the bed to remove her socks. Newt softly places the now slumbering niffler next to her, making sure the blood pact is still securely tucked within its pouch.

“What happened?” Tina exclaims, suddenly alert. Newt explains what happened at the rally, as she cuddles the creature, carefully avoiding its injury. He’s caught again at her intense ability to care, to always put herself before others. She gingerly takes out the silver apparatus, turning it over in one hand.

“Newt,” Tina says quietly, “Do you think what Grindlewald showed us was-is real? Another war?”

Newt having now relieved himself of his waistcoat, bowtie and belt, rests beside her, sharing the niffler in their laps. 

“Honestly?” she nods and he sighs dejectedly, “I believe so,”

“I was afraid you’d say that,” she says drily, lying back on the bed, rubbing her eyes with her palms. Newt takes the blood pact back, and hides it with the niffler again. 

“What are we going to do, Newt?” Tina says, giving him a grim smile, patting the snoring creature. He wryly smiles back, unable to prevent himself from seeing the perverse humour of their situation. 

He lays down next to her, their combined weight causing the bed to bend and they both slide closer together. Newt can see where soot has ingrained itself into the lines of her skin. How her lipstick has smudged across her lips and the corner of her mouth. 

“I don’t know,” he shrugs, resting his head on the mattress. They’re lying on the bed sideways and its pillows sit to their right. Neither of them seem to mind. They’re not ones to do things conventionally. 

“What would a creature do? When faced with danger?” Tina asks sleepily, turning her body to face his.

“What kind of creature?” he smiles, silently thanking Merlin for this wondrous woman. 

“A thunderbird,” she says, nestling into the sheets, “A-a dragon,” Newt’s mouth has turned dry. Is she implying what he thinks she is? 

“Well,” he says, trying to keep his tone neutral, “a thunderbird actually doesn’t do too well with potential threats. That’s why they make storms you see, it's a message to their fellows that they need help,” Tina nods taking in this information attentively, tucking a sliver of hair behind her ear. 

Newt swallows loudly, deciding to take a chance. He’s not good with words, but he in which actions. He undoes the top few shirt buttons, exposing this upper chest to her. Flushing under her intense stare, for she seems almost spellbound at the sight of him- her eyes dark and hazy. He’s got a large burn on his shoulder and various other scratches and lacerations on his skin, but Newt doesn’t have to worry about her possible abhorrence. For the thunderbird flaps and squawks in greeting, and tears well in Tina’s eyes as she smiles.

She reaches out a shaky hand, and places the back of her fingers on the creature. Newt’s heart thumps against his chest, and he has to bite his lip to prevent an inappropriate sound escape from his chest. Her thumb caresses his skin over the creature’s feathers and light shivers spread throughout his body like water ripples, causing his breath to stutter and hands to shake. 

“And a dragon?” Tina’s voice is hardly there. It could only be heard by someone whose nose is almost touching her own. Newt can count her eyelashes. 

“A dragon,” his voice is hoarse, and he has to clear it. Her hand is still rested on his chest, fingers star fished, brushing an old ragged scar that no one’s never seen before let alone caressed. He wants her to be the last person to touch him like this, in this intimate, loving way, and this knowledge makes his words catch in this throat. 

“A dragon,” he begins again after finally gathering himself together, “will stomp, and snap and breathe hot flame, destroying all enemy’s in its path,” She nods again and their noses bump into his causing them both to jump. She gradually removes her hand from his chest and he feels the lost immediately. 

“What are we going to be?” Tina says quietly, her hands moving somewhere near her hips. 

Flush with understand Newt grips her hands tightly, squeezing them passionately.

“I don’t care,” he says harshly, “I don’t care, we’ll fight, or we won’t. As long as I’m with you,” 

Her soft smiling eyes are positive, but are in direct juxtaposition with shaking his fingers off her own. Newt pauses nervously, waiting to gage her next reaction, ready to flit away if needed. Perhaps he’s been too forward. Perhaps these intense feelings are too soon for their budding relationship, or even worse too late (Newt hates all male American aurors, slimy buggers who are allowed full access to Tina while they're parted by an entire ocean). Tina’s furrowed brow and teeth worrying at her lip seem to confirm this, and he goes swiftly moves back like he would with any distressed beast.

“Don’t. Please,” her voice is high and nervy, and Newt pauses every muscle in his body tense.

He goes even more ridged when he finally realises what has caused her strange change of feelings. Her tremoring fingers are working on the last button on her shirt. They both watch as the plastic tries to squeeze through the hole disbelievingly. Finally, it becomes undone and they exhale together, and Tina laughs timidly. Then she moves on to the next button. 

“Tina,” Newt warns under his breath, trying not to watch entranced as she undoes one and then another. She’s wearing a silky slip underneath, but it’s flimsy and form fitting and serves more to highlight her curves than covering them. Merlin’s beard, being so close and them lying in a bed, isn’t helping his current physical state at all. 

“Shhh,” she slushes him, focused intently on her task.

Tina’s unable to meet his eyes, but she’s almost finished now, wiggling her now open shirt over her thin shoulders. Her collarbone is brushed a dark red, the colour working its way down from her face. Newt’s filled with a possessive urge to lean forward and bite the curve of her neck, properly inhaling the scent of sweat, smoke and lavender that surrounds her. Instead he buries his face in the sheets, not trusting himself to do something more or equally as stupid. Then the sweet sound of crushed silk hits his ears. He cracks open one eye, to see Tina sliding the slip up her taunt stomach. 

“Tina,” Newt growls helplessly his voice an octave lower than usual, and she shivers. Yet still she raises the fabric higher and higher. Her skin is smooth, creamy, and there’s a small mole resting to the right of her bellybutton. Her waist is so thin; he feels that his hands could wrap around her where she’s smallest. ‘Would she let him?’ he wonders vacantly, ‘First his hands, then his lips?’ She’s still raising her shirt, and each rib she makes it past, makes Newt’s heart race a little faster- ‘when is she going to stop?’. He whispers a muffled curse into the mattress, doing her the decency of shutting his eyes, although his unruly toes curl involuntarily in anticipation. 

“Oh,” Tina cries surprised but happy. Newt resolutely keeps his eyes shut- he doesn’t trust himself to peak. 

“Newt,” she sighs sweetly, brushing his fringe lightly, twisting the stray strands between her fingers. 

He tentatively opens his eyes. The first thing he sees in her face, which is wide with joy, eyes crinkling. Her beautiful smile has taken over her face, and he can’t help but toothily grin back. She pointedly looks down, and he follows her tender gaze. She’s raised her slip all the way up, so it brushes the underside of her breasts. And sitting underneath the right one, yawns a welsh green dragon, sitting contentedly on her skin. 

“Yes,” he whispers wondrously under his breath, and Tina’s delighted giggles sound like bubbles bursting. Light and unexpected. 

He’s seen it before. On dark skin, not cream. It was a roaring, wild creature. Ferocious, dangerous…terrified. It was marked on Leta’s back, so he’d only seen it in one or two admittedly indecent occasions. Yet he always found the beast not comfortable in its skin, irritably lashing out. Scared of this girl who was not treating Newt- as it saw- like he deserved. 

This dragon however- It sits on Tina’s skin like it’s a throne, like it was born to be there. It waggles it’s forked tongue out at him cheekily, ruffling its wings proudly at his owner whose dark eyes stare at it incredulously. His tattoo is calm, content, and happy. Tina smiles at it gently, the same smile she always gives to all his creatures. God, he loves her. 

He raises a thumb, giving her plenty of time to push his hand away. To rebuff his action which edges a little too far on the indecent side. She doesn’t. So he presses his thumb into her stomach over the creature who snaps at it rudely. 

Tina’s breath catches at his light touch, and she tilts her neck back in an elegant arch, and Newt nearly combusts. He rests his hand fully and firmly on her stomach, fingers curling around her ribs, feeling her heart beat patter against hand. Her eyes flutter shut and he kisses her nose as light as a butterfly. Then her cheek. Then her jaw. Tina’s own hand crawls over his and in the process of interlocking their fingers, a side of his skin brushes against her breast. They freeze. Tina’s eyes bore into his, pupils large, lips parted. Newt forcing himself to breathe steadily slowly retracts his hand, accidentally dragging a nail across the curved velvety slip as he does so. A small gasp slips past Tina’s throat and he wets his lips, pressing his forehead into hers.

“Tina, I- ,“ he mumbles apologetically. 

She kisses him frantically, her lips already open. It takes a few seconds for Newt’s brain to comprehend the pleasant event, but when it does he responds with passion, twisting his fingers in her short bob, moaning happily. Tina shudders against him, as he pulls her ever closer, trying to share her skin. She’s obviously inexperienced, uncertain in her movements, leaning back from his force. So he reins in his intensity, making it instead sweet, gentle. Less lustful, more romantic and Tina sinks into him sighing. ‘I could kiss her forever,’ he thinks lovingly, as their tongues dance together. But his eyelids are so heavy, and she’s so soft, and everything is limp and hazy. And much too soon he’s asleep. 

Jacob and Theseus find them in the afternoon. Tina’s lips pressed on Newt’s forehead, his face nuzzling her neck. The niffler lost between their entwined limbs. It’s much too bittersweet for both of them to bear, so they let them be, creeping back downstairs to talk more comfortably of mutual loss together.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Does this deserve to be 'mature' now? I don't know, but feel free to let me know what you think!


	5. Chapter 5

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Where Tina is oblivious, Achilles' is charming and Newt is jealous.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello!  
> Sorry it's been so long- work is taking up more time than I thought. And then this chapter turned out to be miles long and I changed my idea for how I wanted it to go about ten different times. I have been inspired by all the posts on tumblr about Newt vs Achilles' and decided to write an idea I had about it.  
> So here it is finally, a cute, kinda Christmassy fic, with an adorable surprise at the end.  
> Hope everyone enjoys!

Tina wraps her arms self-consciously around her middle, turning away from her reflection embarrassed. 

“You look beautiful,” Nagini says quietly, sweeping her wand over Tina’s eyelids, putting the finishing touches on her makeup. 

After Paris both women were reluctant to return to their previous homes. For Nagini her sparse rented roof top was too full of the memories of Credence and the circus’s cruelty for her to remain. And for Tina, New York was far too full of echoes of Queenie and loneliness. But here in London... where Newt and his creatures are just around the corner, Jacob and his pastries, Yusuf and his books, Theseus and his excellent taste in liquor. The six of them have spent many a night curled around a roaring fire, creating firm friendships over laughter, food and wine. The girls had both bonded over their love of Credence and their general solidarity. So it made perfect sense for them to get a flat together. (‘Perfect til Newt finally gets his act together a make you half himself’, Theseus likes to say with a bittersweet smile)

However now Dumbledore has got them all on one of his missions. Apparently deep in the bowels of the ministry of magic- the department of mysteries- a map hides which will reveal the exact location in which a blood pact can be broken. So the ministry annual Christmas ball may be the groups only chance to retrieve the scroll un-noticed. With hundreds of tipsy, teary and tired witches and wizards all busy making merry, they’re likely not to be seen if they disappear for a moment. 

Tina’s not sure she trusts the Hogwarts professor. At first glance Dumbledore is the perfect gentlemen. But there’s an strange aura around him, one of deep loss and sadness. And from what Newt’s told her, Tina can’t help but feel that the man plays the world like a chess games. And that sometimes he sacrifices his own pieces to win. Plus, the pale chameleon curled on the back of his neck causes shivers to run down her spine. 

Nagini is tilting her head, hiding an amused smile. Tina sighs, shaking her thoughts momentarily away.

“Did I faze out again?” she guesses, wrinkling her nose. She's been doing this more and more lately. Nagini’s taken to counting on a notepad. Or attempting to draw on her face, to Tina’s intense disgruntlement. 

“A little,” the maledictus hums, sitting gracefully onto her bed.

“Sorry,” Tina turning to face her, “you look beautiful too,” she says sincerely. 

And she does. Nagini is dressed in a beautiful golden gown, that falls to her toes and elongates her long neck. Her hair is done in an elaborate updo, like it’s 1919 not 1929; she's captivating, her skin practically shimmering. The phoenix on her lower arm is pruning itself proudly, buffing it’s feathers so they shine. However, she rolls her eyes at her Tina’s praise, flexing her fingers uncomfortably.

“I’m probably going to be attacked at this thing,” Nagini sighs regretfully, however a cheeky grin has grown on her face before Tina can rebuff her, “Newt’s going to lose his mind when he sees you,” 

“Perhaps,” Tina says to the carpet, blushing. To be honest Newt’s eyes gleam with happiness every time he sees her. When they went out for dinner and she put on her ‘good shirt’ or the other night when he flooed her with a beast emergency and she rocked up at his house in her pyjamas. (Elise was fine, three babies born, all legs kicking). She’s not worried about his admiration. She’s worried about when it will stop. 

“Not perhaps,” Nagini says knowingly as a loud knock vibrates the floor from down stairs. 

“Come in!” Tina yells, pretending not to have heard her, picks up her bags and leads the way out of their bedroom and downstairs. 

The maledictus hugs her round the shoulders as they make their way to where the four males have congregated in their hallway. Newt’s dressed handsomely, Tina muses. Less fashionable than his brother perhaps who’s gone full British, with the old upper-class fashion of white tie, and a shining black blazer. But his choice of dark blue shows off his wild ginger hair, and his bow tie matches his eyes which are flashing at her. She bites her lip at his heavy gaze which takes her up and down slowly. Tina likes to dress to kill when she’s going in full auror mode.

Her dress is blue too, but so deep a colour it’s almost black and it’s covered in tiny red beads, which glint with a fiery glow when the light hits them. Her hem rests just below her knees, which is probably already indecent enough in English standards. However, the back also dips to just above her hip bones, and a small diamond has been cut out just under her bust, which every now and again a dragons tail wags out of. Newts gaze follows his dragon’s movements with an intense look of satisfaction on his face.

Theseus wolf-whistles, and Jacob claps as the girls join them, grinning bashfully. Yusuf smiles nudging Nagini’s shoulder, and Newt wraps a hand around her bare waist. 

“You look beautiful,” his lips tickle her ear, and she nuzzles into his shoulder her joy brimming on her skin, causing her to glow with happiness.

“Everyone ready to go?” Yusuf says clapping his hands together, and they all disapparate.  
\----------------------  
The ministries atrium is alight with Christmas spirit. Six tall trees glimmer in different corners, suits of armour sing carols- with various rude words snuck in at inopportune moments. Every person seems to have a glass in their hands and house elves swim among the guest’s feet in case anyone needs a top up. 

Tina and Newt squeeze through the guests. Tina squeezes his hand where it’s entwined with her own, intensely uncomfortable with the amount of hot bodies pressed up against them. Newt’s stooped posture suggests that he feels the same. They’re supposed to be the distraction, for Newt is way too famous these days to be missed in a crowd. And Tina’s apparently been spotted leaving his town house for ‘Scamander’s American Hussy’ has been a recent tabloid headline for far too long for both of them. Every ten paces or so they’re stopped by a fascinated fan or an older lady full of gossip and at this rate neither of them are going to make it too the food table. 

“Mercy Lewis,” Tina grumbles as a particular exhilarated couple wave them over. Newt rubs a soothing hand over her shoulder blades. 

“I know,” he sighs heavily, “but they’re Bunty’s parents, I just can’t ignore them,” she leans into him. She’s a little bit taller than Newt in her heels, which are already biting the balls of her feet. He doesn’t seem to mind however, nipping her neck lovingly, causing her eyes flutter shut and her foot to stumbles slightly. 

“I don’t want to be rude,” Tina says digging him in his side, as Newt chuckles, the deep sound vibrating in her chest, “but if possible, in the future, can we live far away, in the country perhaps, where no one can find us or the creatures?” 

Newt stares up at her, eyes soft, apparently lost for words. Tina smiles shyly at her toes, biting the inside of her cheek, nervous about her upfront manner but not regretting her statement. When Newt speaks again his voice is deep and slightly hoarse.

“Our creatures,” he says, gently touching her chin with his thumb.

“Our creatures,” she repeats gently and he smiles, cupping her cheek gently. 

They stand together smiling stupidly. Rocking backwards and forwards on his toes, Newt sheepishly smiles, and she lets her eyes flutter shut, anticipating their satisfying meeting. 

“Is that…Miss Goldstein?” a tentative voice breaks through their tender moment, “is that you?” 

A sandy haired wizard presses through the crowd, looking dapper in a sharp crimson suit. His blonde hair is set in a perfect wave, his brown eyes twinkle, and his face carries a winning smile turning him slowly into someone intensely familiar to her. A grin cracks across Tina’s exasperated frown. 

“Mr Tolliver? Mercy Lewis, how are you?” she cries, enthusiastically shaking his hand. 

“Very well, very well indeed,” his voice is just as alight, although dipped in a southern accent. He takes her hand in both of his and squeezes hard, “But how are you? I heard about Paris…and about Queenie,” Tina quickly releases her grip, pain coursing through her. She has many a memory of the three of them sitting together at lunch, and she winces as her sister’s familiar curls bounce through her mind.

She's tried not to listen to the rumours. But in her line of work it’s hard not to. ‘Grindlewald and his blonde meteorite terrorising Europe’. She had hoped that those suspicions hadn’t reached MACUSA yet- but obviously not. All the people they used to pass in the corridors, their old school friends, their land lady, the president…Sour sick rises up her throat. Newt strokes her arm gently in comfortable swirls and glares at the man. 

“Of course she’s not fine,” Newt says harshly, tucking Tina securely into his side.

She’s too distraught, caught up in echoes of the past, to notice how the two men’s hackles rise. Both puff out their chests, rise up to their full heights and stare each other down, eyes glinting dangerously.

“Who are you?” Newt states bluntly, his hand tightening on the strap of his case, the leather squeaking. If she listens closely, Tina can just pick up the various growls that come from within. 

“Sorry,” Tina says much more kindly, “Newt Scamander, this is Achilles’ Tolliver, we were partners together in New York, before I left for Paris,” she nods her head happily at Achilles’, elated to run into a friend from home.

He bows, hair falling forward as if he were a dashing prince from a fairy tale. He’s taller than her, even with her increased height, and he grins down at her bashfully. She then smiles at Newt, stroking his arm where it's linked to her own. He barely manages to give her a grimace. His face is a contortion, full of conflicting and obviously uncomfortable emotions. 

“Newt?” Tina asks worriedly, she hates him feeling uncomfortable. A protective passion swells in her, and she tries to catch his gaze to find out what’s bothering him. Find out what she can do. But Newt hides in his unruly fringe, and plays with the latch on his case, unwilling to meet her eyes. Hurt waves replace her previous excited emotions. She lets go of his arm. 

“Nice to meet you,” Achilles’ says gentlemanly, clearly trying to deplete the pairs sudden tension, “Miss Goldstein has told me all about you, she wouldn’t stop going on about your creatures,” 

“Tina, please”, she smiles shyly, bobbing her head in thanks. Surely the magizoologist will be more friendly now he’s brought them on the topic of his beasts. But he refuses to take the olive branch. 

“I’m afraid Tina did not grant me the same pleasure, and I know nothing about you,” Newt says stiffly, his gaze focused on a glittering chandelier. It doesn’t escape her notice that Pickett blows a raspberry in Achilles’ direction. Shame boils in her stomach at Newt’s rude manner to her friend and she takes a step closer to the American, ready to apologise. 

“Ah brother, Tina,” Theseus’ swings an arm over Newt’s shoulder, a whisky held tight in his hand. He raises his eyebrows, once, twice. Yusuf must be onto phase two, “I see you’ve met our newest employee,”

“Employee?” Newt stutters, his case falling with a thud on the floor. He looks wildly between Theseus and Achilles’, clearly seeing an answer not to his taste. He is still refusing to look at her, and Tina bites her lip, downcast. 

“Yes, I’m going to be MACUSA’S link in the ministry,” Achilles’ states, straightening his shoulders proudly, and Theseus slaps him comradely on the back. 

“I though you could show him the ropes on Monday,” Theseus says to Tina, who rushes to accept.

“Of course,” she says happily and Achilles’ winks at her. 

Tina hears Newt suck in a harsh breath.

“Newton,” a portly man wanders up to them, his face flushed with pleasure and wine. An elegant red haired lady with a sweet smile, hangs of his arm. She can clearly see the echoes of Bunty’s features on their faces. Newt greets them both with a clearly fake smile pasted on his face. Then he turns swiftly round to his brother, jaw ticking. 

“Theseus would you like to walk with me and the Weasley’s?” he asks quietly. Tina’s mouth fall open, her throat constricted in shock. They were supposed to stay together throughout the entire. And although she hates the crowds, she loves being with Newt. Always loves being with him. Does he not like being with her anymore? Theseus also looks surprised, although he's able to hide it better.

“But don’t you want to introduce them to Tina?” he says smoothly, sweeping an elegant hand in her direction.

“I thought I would give her and Mr Tolliver some time to catch up,” Newt says, his whole focus given on picking up his suitcase. Tina stares at him disbelievingly, her bottom lip wobbling. He ignores her. 

“Thank you, Mr Scamander, very much obliged” Achilles’ nods gladly at him, wrapping a hand around her waist. Tina can’t help but shudder. His hands are smooth, almost dainty, and she feels a strange kind of revulsion at the missing rough calluses and scratches of her magizoologist’s palms. She opens her mouth to object, but Bunty’s parents and the two brothers are already walking away. Theseus looks back, sending her a small sympathetic smile. Newt does not, his neck full of tension, his free hand clenched.

“Shall we?” Achilles’ says and Tina agrees faintly, feeling hollow.

He gathers her, and directs them towards a wall where a golden love seat happens to be free. She sits gingerly, one leg crossed over the other and a nervous sweat forms where her skin presses together. Sure the two worked together, but it was relationship based on their mutual careers. And without a case file between them, she has no idea what to say.

“That Newt Scamander is a strange one, isn’t he?” Achilles’ says, breaking the silence, slapping his hands down on his knees.

“No,” the clear, sharp words leave Tina almost immediately, causing him to gaze at her wide eyed. She stares him down, unwilling to falter. Yes, Newt had acted strangely, but he’s not strange. He’s wonderful. 

“He’s just,” Achilles’ stumbles. Tina can tell by the tense line in his jaw, that he expected her to agree with him, “he’s just not what I expected,” he eventually tries. Not be best, but she’s seen worse, so she grudgingly forgives him. But keeps her frown, loyal to a fault. 

A long, uncomfortable silence follows, full of small sniffs and fabric rustles. 

“So, what made you want to move to the British ministry?” Tina eventually says conversationally, throwing him a bone. He snaps it up willingly.  
“Ah you know, it’s close to the European stage, and the culture is marvelous and so are,” he stares directly at her, “the people,” She inclines her head knowingly, thinking of awkward smiles and forest green eyes. 

“I understand,” she says, softly touching the back of her neck, where the imprint of Newt’s lips still lingers.

“Do you?” Achilles’ says flabbergasted, his dark eyes bright, “oh dearest, do you really?” he takes her hand in his, rubbing his thumb on the back of her hand. 

It’s as if a stunning spell has hit Tina square between the eyes. Her shock is so complete, she’s left a statue, unable to move as Mr Tolliver pronounces his apparent admiration of her. 

“You have no idea how much esteem I have for you,” he says smoothly; as if reading lines off a script, “I tried to think it was just friendship, but seeing you here, looking so gorgeous…” he trails off. 

But Tina can tell it’s staged, a well-timed judgement call in his speech, intended to make her lose her breath. Not a fumble of a truly awkward person. And although her vanity can’t help but preen itself on being seen to be beautiful, she can’t help but prefer Newt’s much more sincere complement of her ‘salamander eyes’. His true nervousness in his execution and clear wonder when she made it clear she understood him... And she did, and still does. Every time he compares her to a creature Tina’s nerves dance with joy, and it makes them smile dopily at each other for the rest of the day. To be compared to a beast that Newt admires more than anything in the world, fills her with indefinable pleasure. To know that he sees her the way he sees them means more than she can put into words. And although Achilles’ complement is nice, she can’t help but feel- in comparison- it’s an empty thing to say. Anyone could call her beautiful. Only Newt could compare her to a lizard born of fire. 

Achilles’ is staring at her expectantly. Tina tentatively removes her hand.

“I’m terribly…flattered,” she begins, and his face falls, “But I’m afraid I already have someone,” His eyes drop to her stomach and she knows her dragon must be making an exhibition of itself. 

“Mr Scamander,” Achilles’ whispers incredulously under his breath. 

“Yes,” Tina says resolutely. 

“But, but,” his gaze runs over her empty fingers desperately, “nothing is set in stone is it? You’re not engaged?”

“No,” she says hesitantly, self-consciously hiding her hands behind her back. 

‘He will though, propose,’ she thinks shakily, her bravado failing, ‘or will he? He was being so cold before, perhaps…perhaps he’s finally gotten fed up with her. Maybe seeing her seemingly back in New York, has made her less enchanting to him to him. The glamour of Paris finally wearing off and leaving her as dull and boring as she was before,’ Tina swallows thickly, taking in Achilles’. He’s kind, strong, self-assured; he would make a perfectly good husband for any woman. He would be perfectly good for her-them both having the same career, similar backgrounds and similar goals. And yes Newt would always haunt her, but if he no longer cares for her… Clearly sensing her uncertainty, the man in question places a soft hand on her upper thigh. Her short skirt had risen up above her knee, so he’s able to press directly on her bare skin. 

“Then I might have a chance to win you?” Achilles’ asks desperately, leaning in closer. 

‘Win me?’ Tina thinks, scrunching up her nose in disgust. ‘As if I’m something to be bought or traded. As if it’s up to either him or Newt, not me and who I want to spend the rest of my life with’. Her small, contemplation of a detective married couple changes to a flash to Achilles’ waving cheerfully goodbye before going off to work, while she sits at home pregnant, with three children running around her ankles. A future she does want, but not at the expense of her career. Tina needs someone that understands she will never belong in a tradition house hold. She wants to be a loving mother, yes, but not a housewife. 

“I don’t think so,” she says gently, moving to remove his hand off his thigh. But what she finds below it makes them gasp. A German Shepherd stands to attention on her skin, it’s tongue wagging along with its tail. Tina presses a disbelieving thumb on the hound. She rubs. It doesn’t come off. It’s real. Achilles’ Tolliver’s love will forever be embedded on her skin. 

“This proves it!” Achilles’ states pompously, and far too loudly. Tina catches other witches and wizards staring over at them curiously. He frantically checks below his sleeves, as if expecting to find her mark already there. He doesn’t but it doesn’t deter him, and he places his hand back on her thigh, even more tightly than before. 

“Achilles’ please let me go,” Tina tries to wiggle out of his grip, but he refuses. She can feel each of his hot fingernails digging, hard, into her skin. 

Although he’s been perfectly amiable up to this point, she can’t help but feel slightly frantic. She may be tall, but she’s slim. Achilles' however is broad chested and big boned. He’d have no problem over-coming her if he wanted to. 

“Please,” she says again, her voice breaking a little. But Achilles’ seems lost in a daydream of his own conviction. Tina tries to pry off his fingers one by one, but it’s no use. She grinds her teeth, anxious butterflies bouncing on her chest and throat. She wants him off, away, she wants to escape, to got home, to where it’s safe. A scared whine rises out of her throat. 

“Get off her,” a voice growls behind her. Achilles’ jumps terrified, but Tina breathes a sigh of relief. A familiar calloused hand sits on her shoulder, lightly brushing her neck. She leans into his touch, reaching up to press a trembling hand over his own thankfully. Leafy lips kiss her cheek, Pickett squeaking in greeting. Achilles’ clammy hand is still locked, on her thigh. 

“I said, get off her,” Newt’s voice is louder, more powerful now that Tina is holding his hand. It’s deep and smoky and makes her knees wobble for an entirely different reason. 

Achilles’ fingers falls off her leg, exposing what lies beneath. Bright red, semi-circles marks dent her skin, surrounding the dog like a frame, clearly highlighting the mark in all its glory. There’s an eerie silence. 

Then there’s a sound like a whiplash, and Tina is thrown back in her seat as the swooping evil (Herbert) snarls in Achilles’ face, it’s purple tongue hissing dangerously. He lets out a guttural scream at the sudden assault, and Tina quickly vaults to a standing position on the couch, towering over the two men. Achilles’ is cowering, hands covering his head, trying to avoid the poison that’s dripping off the creature’s jaws and falling in tiny sizzles on the floor. Newt is standing proud- the apparent victor. He has total control over the beast, holding it tight by it’s spiky tail, every now and again crooning proud words in it's direction. His eyes however are rimmed in red, and though tear drops frequently drip down his cheeks he doesn't even bother to wipe them. Bottom lip wobbles tremendously, and he whispers the same word softly under his breath, almost like a prayer. 

“No, no, no, no, no, no, no,”

“Newt,” Tina cries, heart breaking.

“No,” Newt spits louder, his words now directed at her, “please, I don’t want to hear it,” he’s got one hand pressed up against his chest where she knows her thunderbird hides.  
She calls his name again, but he seems beyond sanity, his whole body trembling with the intensity of his emotions. Tina whistles helplessly, almost nonsensical herself. The same whistle that Newt used two years before, when they ran through MACUSA’s catacombs. Herbert flies onto her shoulder, a creating majestic purple cape across her shoulders. 

Newt slumps, one hand slammed up against the wall, supporting his weight. Swiftly Tina jumps down from her perch and gathers him in her arms. 

“Darling, it’s not what you think,” she murmurs desperately into his ear, and he cries into her neck.

“It’s not?” he says despondently, gripping her tightly. 

“It’s only him, he loves me, I don’t love him. I love…” she falters. It may be on their skin, written on their hearts, but it’s never been said- not out loud. Seeing his pure grief at another man loving her, Tina can’t help but think it probably should have. They are both non-verbal people, always preferring actions over anything else. But words are still important, especially in moments like this. 

“Newt,” Tina says cupping his face with her hands, “Newt, I love you,” he absorbs this like the scientist he is. She can see him taking in everything flicker, every blink, judging the truth in her features. She caresses his cheeks lovingly with her thumbs and he gasps hanging his head in disbelief. His eyes are light, and his mouth soft and slightly open. 

“You, you?” his voice is like a soft breeze, caressing her face gently.

“I love you,” she says giggling at the joy erupting on his face.

Laughing, his sadness quite forgotten, Newt picks her up by the waist and twirls her around. A large smile tugs at Tina’s cheeks, but she’s unable to put it away, their mutual happiness intoxicating them both. Herbert flies up above their heads, squawking disgruntledly at his parents actions. Setting her down, Newt begins kissing every inch of her face- her nose, her cheeks, her chin. Between each soft peck, her elated ears pick up ‘love you,’ ‘love you,’ ‘love you,’, and she happily succumbs to his assault, as if sinking into a warm bath.

“Love you,” he mumbles as he nibbles on her ear.

“Yes,” she says faintly, hanging onto his neck like he’s her life line, carding her fingers through his hair, “Love you,” she nudges her nose on his brow and he chuckles delightedly. 

Finally, their lips connect in a sweet kiss, and they sway together gently, at ease.

“Oi!” a voice breaks them apart. It’s Theseus, whose face is coloured tomato. Tina can practically see the steam pouring out of his ears. 

The entire atrium has turned towards them, either staring opened mouth at either the swooping evil or their embrace. One house elf near to the pair has dropped its tray, and the bubbling alcohol has made a sparkling river, running over Achilles’ pants, who is still sat quivering on the floor.

“Whoops,” Newt says drily, apparently unfazed. Tina however hides under his arm to prevent herself from hyperventilating. 

“You know when I said ‘be the distraction,’” Theseus thunders, “I didn’t mean like this!” She feels Newt’s shoulders raise in a shrug. 

“It worked didn’t it?” he calls back cheekily, and she giggles despite herself.

As the brothers engage in a passionate shouting match- one extremely angry, the other extremely sarcastic- Tina finally pulls herself together enough to check on Achilles’. He weakly pushes away all her attempts to assist him, so she orders a strong whisky and writes an apology on a card and sits them both beside him.

“He’ll be fine, Tina,” Newt says gleefully, almost more so than he was before. She swats him on the shoulder. 

“You’re in trouble, Mr Scamander,” she scolds and he pouts childishly. Tina rolls her eyes, secretly amused, “tomorrow,” she finishes grudgingly and he kisses her cheek.

“Thanks love,” he says, and they both grin at each other stupidly. 

Creak. A strange noise slashes through the air. Like a chorus in a play, the crowds in one motion stare up in the sounds direction. A crack like a spiders-web is growing slowly on the ceiling. Little pieces of plaster, float down on witch’s hair and wizard’s glasses like snow. Creak. The web grows, interconnecting ever faster and vibrating menacingly. Almost comically the congregation parts, creating a circle of empty space round the deepest crack.

“Mercy Lewis,” Tina breathes disbelievingly. 

Bang! And an explosion of dust and broken debris hurtles towards the crowds, followed by three unfortunately familiar masses. Tina quickly shoots up a charm, that causes a bubble of protection over everyone and though Jacob, Yusuf and Nagini still slam down on the ground below, the ceiling matter bounces off saving every one from the unfortunate shower. A dusty scroll is clamped tightly in Jacob’s grip. 

“It’s in the damn amazon,” he shouts, though slightly muffled around bits of plaster, “pal, we’re going to South America!” Jacob waves the prized piece of parchment in the air in Newt's direction. 

Silence. Then a high pitched female scream rolls out from the crowd, like a she's maid who has found a murdered body in a library. Slowly a cascade of exclamation rolls out from the crowd, and they gather around the trio like pecking chickens around feed. Theseus’s face has graduated from red to purple. 

Rocking backwards and forwards on her heels, Tina turns to Newt, who has his eyebrows raised in amusement.

“Your place?” she whispers in his ear, feeling like now would be a good time to disappear. 

“Oh yes, definitely,” he nods, takes her arm and they vanish.  
\---------------------------------

They collapse in on Newt’s workspace, down in his hospital, tears of laughter rolling down their cheeks. He collapses onto his chair clutching his stomach and Tina leans against his desk, almost bent double in glee. 

“I’m going to remembers this night for the rest of my life,” she giggles, Theseus’ puce face embedded in her mind. Newt takes her hand, staring up at her adoringly. 

“Me too,” he says softly and she melts. They stare at each other caught, neither noticing Pickett climbing down Newt’s coat buttons like a monkey to cause chaos somewhere else. 

“Listen Tina,” he says, suddenly sober, “I’m sorry for the way I acted tonight, I was…well I was an arse,” 

“Yes,” she says simply, and he rolls his eyes self-deprecatingly, “but why?” 

Newt plays with her fingers, chewing on the inside of his cheek in obvious thought. 

“Queenie told me about Mr Tolliver when she and Jacob invited themselves over last September,” he says eventually, “she said you were ‘seeing him’ because of what you read about Leta and I in that bloody magazine,” 

Tina’s mouth falls open in shock. They had worked together, sure, even sometimes bought each other the occasional coffee or hotdog. But he’d never proposed courtship to her (Though in retrospect, looking back at his actions tonight, she may have been simply oblivious). She personally though, had never felt anything for him other than friendship, maybe at the most admiration at a particularly well casted spell. 

She doesn’t know whether to feel hurt or happy. Was Queenie trying to stick up for her, to show Newt how much he hurt her? Or did she purposefully lie, taking revenge on her sister, who in her mind, abandoned her? It’s a terrifying thought, that based on Queenies actions in Paris, she doesn’t know. Miserable emotions rise up in her, making Tina feel slightly dizzy and she sways on the spot. Newt seems to be waiting for her response, incredibly focused on the intricate beading on her dress, though he squeezes her hand sympathetically. In time she clears her throat.

“Newt, I can promise you that, that was never true,” Tina promises thickly, “I may have sort after his friendship, but not his love,” Newt nods, kissing her hand sweetly.

“That’s what I told myself, especially after you didn’t mention him,” he says, huffing out a helpless breath, “but then…you looked so happy to see him…I couldn’t help thinking you preferred him over me,” Swallowing the tears caught in her throat, she runs a shaky hand through his hair and he leans into her touch.

“Oh darling,” she whispers and he laughs wetly. 

“Then I saw his mark on your skin,” he shudders, closing his eyes tight, “and I thought my worst nightmare had come true,” Tina’s feels her heart breaking out from her chest and enfolding around his own. 

“I love you,” she says quietly and he smiles, cocking his head to one side. 

“Come here,” he orders, gesturing to his lap which Tina quite happily deposits herself onto, feeling his strong arms wrap around her. He presses his nose to her neck, nipping her skin softly and she hums. 

“Achilles’ did see your tattoo, and I told him to back off,” Tina says, leaning back in his grip, watching his eyes darken. 

“Did you now?” a smug smirk grows on Newt’s face, and she rolls her eyes at his obvious preening. In retaliation he presses a cold hand to her bare skin where his dragon lies, and she feels her stomach drop to her toes. 

“Yes,” she says breathlessly, and he grins wildly, “but he still thought he had a chance,” Newt’s eyes narrow, and he tightens his grip on her waist, “because we’re not, you know,” she plays with her empty ring finger, feeling his gaze on movements. 

He takes her hand softly, slowly studying her fingers one, by one, finally tracing a light nail where a band would sit. Tina leans into his touch, as Newt continues his ministrations, burying her face in his neck, inhaling his familiar scent of dung and fresh parchment. She’s never felt more content in her life. If she closes eyes she can almost pretend the constant tingle that his touch leaves behind is a ring. 

“Creatures don’t marry you know?” Newt says quietly in her ear. 

“Really, none?” Tina asks.

“Well some mate for life I suppose,” he says pondering her question, “but I’ve always found that sad instead of romantic. Because when their partner dies or they get separated, they’re left alone forever, unable to let go,”

“That sounds lonely,” she says softly.

“I think so too,” he agrees. 

They rock together, in a comfortable, companionable silence. All they need is a bottle of wine and two good books and they'd be able to re-create their normal Friday night. Tina can’t help but think she can’t imagine of a better way to spend the rest her life. She can tell Newt’s trying to discreetly sniff her hair. But they're so close, she can feel his chest's soft inhales on her arm. Tina finds that she strangely likes it, him cataloging her. She vaguely muses, whether he’s written anything down and if he’d let her read it.

“What else do creatures do? If not mating for life?” she says eventually yawning into his shoulder. 

“Well generally it’s about marking each other, a bit like our tattoos,” he says, voice low with tiredness, “about showing other potential mates that ‘this one’s mine’ so to speak,” 

Tina’s heart jumps at the word ‘mine’. The possessive term would usually cause her to turn up her nose, but coming from Newt’s lips, and spoken in his smokey lower octave. It makes her legs clench together. 

“How?” she says murkily. From sleep or something else she can’t be sure. 

“There are two general ways,” he explains, almost conversationally, “covering their mate with their scent, or biting, physically making them ‘theirs’,” 

Tina nods sleepily, letting his words sweep over her. Then they seep in, and Tina emerges out of her dream like state, like a cork popping from a bottle. She leans back in his arms, opening her eyes, blinking until she can look at him directly. 

“You bite me all the time,” she says incredulously, “you did it tonight in the ball room, you did it only just before,” Newt looks rather sheepish, and is refusing to meet her gaze.

“You nuzzle me a lot too,” she says in an after-thought, “Newt…does that mean?” he tries to loosen his grip on her, but she holds on defiantly cupping his neck, forcing him to look at her. He grudgingly curls his hands around her wrists, sighing defeatedly. 

“I like the creatures to know what you mean to me,” he says shyly, although to his credit he keeps his eyes locked with her, “you’re my mate,” Tina gasps, and his eyes widen, “I mean if you want to be called that…if it doesn’t make you uncomfortable, I know…well…I don’t have to,” he stutters. 

Without even thinking about it Tina leans in, rubbing her nose lovingly along his brow. She hears Newt choke on air as she makes her way down, as she presses her cheek to his, catching her jaw on his own, his slight stubble scratching her skin deliciously. Slowly kissing down his neck, she makes sure to catch every freckle with her tongue. Newt is gripping her hair tightly, keeping her in place, and the slight pull makes her toes curl. 

“Tina,” he moans, as she suckles at his throat, and she grins delightedly. 

“Mine,” she mumbles, soothing the purple mark with light kisses, and Newt growls. 

“Yes,” he says roughly twisting her hips to centre towards his, and she swings one leg over his lap now properly straddling him, “mine,” and presses them together in a bruising kiss.

Tina’s lips are already red and sore, but she rises to the challenge magnificently and their lips crash together in a battle they both want to win. Newt’s pressing her so close she could practically meld to his skin. But it’s not enough, so so not enough, and she reaches up to grips his hair, harshly pulling him into her. They’ve never kissed like this before, not really. They always stop just before falling over the edge. Tina being too shy, Newt being too nervous, to continue. But tonight he continues pushing, drinking from her like he’s a drowning man and she eagerly submits giving him everything. He catches her bottom lip with his teeth, and pulls. A metallic taste covers her tongue and she mewls. He breaks away from her embrace, his eyes almost entirely black, ringed in only a thin line of green.

“Your turn,” he pants, and begins mauling at her neck. A savage attack that leaves her trembling, and his hands tighten on the small of her back keeping her upright. 

“Newt,” she cries helplessly, as he bites down on her collar bone, and when he recedes his grin positively feral. 

“There, now it’s official,” he cups her jaw, and she smiles, turning her head slightly to kiss his thumb.

“We’re mates,” she sighs, her eyelids happily flutter shut. 

“Yes,” he mumbles quietly. Newt’s rubbing his palms over her thighs, playing with her hem, pushing and pulling the fabric. She can tell he’s deep in thought, not noticing how his thumb every now and again brushing her inner leg causing her to suck in a breath.

“Tina?” he whispers. 

“hmm,” she replies dreamily. 

“Marry me?” he asks tentatively. 

She opens her eyes and his green ones bore into hers soft with love. Her mouth falls open in a soft ‘o’, and he touches his thumb to her lips. 

“What?” stutters around his skin, completely stunned. 

“Marry me,” he says sincerely, his thumb moving to caress her chin, “then everyone will know, what we are to each other,” 

“Newt,” she says her voice a high pitched squeak, “what are you talking about?” 

“With bites on our neck our creatures know we’re together,” he says softly, but clearly and passionate, “but with matching rings- everyone, everyone will know, don’t you see?” he pulls on her skirt, begging her to understand.

His words are so earnest and honest, a lump forms in her throat, and for a minute all she can do is blink oncoming tears away. She plays with his tie around his neck, trying to crush old fears that threaten to swell up inside her. 

“Are you sure you want to marry me?” she asks downcast, twisting her favourite gold necklace anxiously between her fingers. 

“Why on earth wouldn’t I want to marry such an incredible woman?” Newt says blankly, and she huffs out a laugh.

“It’s you that’s incredible,” she says gently, taking his hand and squeezing, while looking around in admiration at his fantastic beasts that surround them. 

“If that’s true,” he leans in and kisses her nose, “then I want an equally wondrous woman by my side, for the rest of my life, if she’ll let me,” 

She kisses him. A tear drips down her nose, intermingling in their lips, adding a salty taste to their embrace. She thinks about not being with him always; not helping him care for the creatures, not feeling his hand clasped tightly in her own, not sitting next to him at his dining table, their legs entwined, her drinking coffee, him drinking tea, talking about their day in soft, gentle voices or bright teasing banter. About not having him in her life always, eventually just sending the occasionally letter, or birthday card as the years run past them throwing them further and further apart. It makes her feel ill, almost faint, and she kisses him harder, tears running faster. Eventually they break away. 

“Yes,” she says, her voice a mere breath. 

“What?” he stares at her dumbfounded.

“Yes,” she says a smile flowing onto her face, “Yes, I’ll marry you,”

Newt laughs, a full bodied, gorgeous sound that crackles like a merry fire. His smile breaks his face in two and his fingers tremble on her skin. 

“You will?” he asks, his voice loud and bright.

“Yes, of course I will!” she replies, giggling uncontrollably, her sudden intense happiness falling out of her pores in waves.

“Oh Tina!” he cries, pushing them upwards, taking her hand, and waltzing her over the floorboards. Every now and again they stop to kiss, energetically, teeth crashing together, tongues hot and desperate.

Newt’s smile is almost splitting his face in two. Tina’s magic is bubbling on her skin- she feels as if she could summon the moon. 

“A ring,” Newt’s keeps saying jubilantly, “we need a ring,” he runs a frantic hand over her empty fingers. 

“I don’t need a ring,” Tina says, touching her forehead to his own, sighing peacefully, “all I need is you,”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Let me know what you think!  
> And if your wondering I just had an idea that I could work- that Bunty is actually a Weasley! Perhaps that's why Arthur's so fond of the gnomes in their backyard. Just a thought, feel free to tell me if she actually has a last name that I don't know about.


	6. Chapter 6

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Where Newt reminisces on the past, the gang get caught by Grindelwald's followers, and Tina has a secret.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello again!  
> Sorry it's been so long, but I've finally got this finished! Sorry about the potential wrong tenses used in this chapter- I bounce back and forward a lot and changing tense is not my strong suit.  
> I hope everyone enjoys this!
> 
> Disclaimer: there's a scary character who obviously enjoys hurting/manipulating people in this chapter. There's also a death scene. If this could trigger you in any way please don't read this chapter!

The first time it happens, to Newt’s surprise, it was Tina who initiated it. The pair were having a small picnic in his case, sharing sweet kisses over one of Jacob’s cakes, while watching a glorious sunset. Newt was almost almost asleep, baking peacefully in the setting sun, when suddenly. 

“Newt,” Tina was tucked into his arm, and was busily playing with some of his shirt buttons, “how far are we going to take our relationship,” 

“We’re getting married, love,” Newt said drily, too tired to read into the context of her words, “so I’d say pretty far,”

“No,” Tina said, swatting his arm. This time it didn’t escape his notice that her voice was uncharacteristically high, “I mean, you know, our- oh you know- relationship,”

Newt tilted his chin down uncomfortably to stare at her properly. Her cheeks were flushed pink, and his dragon was flying high against her neck; always a sign of a high emotional moment. He caught her chin with his thumb, and her eyes that blinked at him, were wide and fearful.  
Most people, when they met the couple, assumed that she was the dominant one - his awkward exterior no match for her outwardly brashness. Only those who knew them well knew the truth. That when alone, they almost swap personalities- Tina shy and sweet, Newt self-assured and free. She never talked about her emotions, bottled them up until either hell froze over or Newt coaxed them out of her. He was open and honest, only stumbling when unsure whether or not Tina would appreciate his affections. He had had a few flings, plus one serious past relationship. This was Tina’s first and going to be only. 

Tina’s bottom lip was wobbling and he caught it between his teeth, kissing her soundly. He heard her whimper, and wrap herself more firmly around him. Eventually, Newt pulled himself away from her tempting mouth. 

“Love, we can take it as far as you want, snogging. Touching. Sex,” at the taboo word Tina hid her head into his shirt. He stroked the hair at the back of her neck, entranced at her innocence, “but Tina, I always thought we were waiting, until...,” he trailed a finger over the simple silver band sitting on her finger. 

“I thought so to,” she murmured, and twisted the band herself round and round her finger anxiously, “but I want our wedding night to be perfect, you know?” 

“Tina it will be,” Newt sighed lovingly and placed a kiss on her forehead. 

“Yes but,” she bit her lip, “I don’t want to ruin it by being awkward or you know,” she clenched her jaw, and he could feel the tense line of her back, “I want to enjoy it with you, not…not,” she stumbled.

“You don’t want to learn on the job,” he quipped and she smiled up at him gratefully, nodding eagerly. 

“I want to know what to expect,” she told him sincerely, “what to do, how to make it good for you,”

Newt hissed through his teeth, images, unwillingly, flitted through his mind of just how she could. He took a deep breath, pulse racing, attempting to recite the twelve uses of dragon blood, at the risk of embarrassing himself in their close proximity. 

“You couldn’t not make it good for me,” he whispered in her ear, truthfully, “it’s you, Tina. It’ll be amazing whether we’ve ‘practiced’ or not,” 

Tina had kissed him on the cheek, nudging her nose into his neck lovingly.

“Even so,” she said quietly, “if we ever wanted to try, I’m amendable,” 

Newt had smiled stupidly all night long and his dreams we much more than innocent dragon wrangling that night. And eventually, about a month later, he'd shyly invited Tina to stay the night and she silently accepted with a wide, nervous, smile. And though yes, at first it was awkward, but it was also wonderful and so, so, right.

\--------------------------------- 

Newt loosens his shirt buttons, the intense humidity of the Amazon sneaking into his bones. Their tent had become stifling, condensation dripping off the tarp, and causing Pickett to voluntarily go into his case to the cool relief of his tree. That’s when he finally had to admit to himself- things were bad. So Newt, to distract himself from the heat, had gone in search of his fiancé. Tina had gone off to get a drink about twenty minutes ago, but her gentle face had yet to re-appear. Wiping the sweat from his eyes, Newt uses his wand to hack through some unyielding vines, searching for the winding river and the woman he expects to find beside it. Because honestly? He’s worried. 

Tina, Theseus and Jacob had succumbed to food poisoning in their first few days in Rio. All three could be heard, heaving, in their rented apartment's bathroom, while Newt, Nagini and Yusuf- pretending not to listen- planned their next move below. However, Theseus and Jacob had slowly recovered, their pasty features slowly becoming brown thanks to the burning sun. Tina’s stomach though, had continued to churn. Newt had awoken many a morning to find her bent double over a bush. She always brushed away his concerns, but he can’t help the nervous grumble in his stomach whenever, pale, she falls back into bed again. Without her knowledge he’s begun cataloguing the food she’s eating to find the culprit.

So armed with his worried thoughts of finding his beloved sick beyond words and needing his help, Newt crashes through the jungle and into an open clearing. 

An enormous moon battles the open room in soft light, the green river turned to almost a sparkling silver. A lone figure kneels on the back. Tina’s silhouette is almost ethereal, her already pearly skin bathed in an unworldly glow. Her hair shines in it's light, it’s curls brushing her collar gently. Newt watches spellbound as she raises her wand smoothly, her delicate wrists turning expertly. There’s a dark gurgle in water. Then it river seems to build, a pole of liquid which shivers in the soft breeze. Slowly the blob begins to take shape- long streaming hair, a shimmering dress- and eventually a willowy woman reaches out a hand to brush against Tina’s cheek.  
Newt, as silently as he can, makes his way towards her, not wanting to interrupt the haunting scene. But also needing to disperse the clear pain written across her face. His foot accidentally steps on a hidden branch, and she starts at the loud snap, though she keeps her wand arm up. 

“Newt?” Tina asks quietly, reaching her free hand out behind her.

“Love,” he says breathlessly, ignoring her hand, instead opting to wrap his arms around her from behind. Newt’s knees sink uncomfortably into the soft soil, but that doesn’t matter as Tina’s wet sobs shake his chest. He holds her tighter, fingers curling into her curved form. 

They both stare up at the watery woman, who’s smiling, an almost proud smile, down at them. 

“Who?” he says after a time, as Tina settles her head in the curve of his neck. She lets her wand arm fall and the form collapses, a tiny wave crashing over her skirt and making its way into his shoes. 

“My Mother,” she says simply. 

Newt, not knowing what to say, kisses her on the cheek softly. They sit together in silence, he listening to her breaths become slower and more even, she making small patterns in the newly made mud. 

“I always wanted to be just like her,” Tina says eventually, voice full of memory, “she was such a happy person. She loved to sing, she loved hugs, she loved magic, and she loved us,” a single tear falls onto his collarbone. 

“She sounds lovely,” Newt says honestly. 

“She would’ve liked you,” she replies warmly, pecking his neck lightly, “she didn’t set much by the rules either,” Newt nuzzles her teasingly, blowing a fake offended laugh through his nose and Tina giggles. 

“So why?” Newt waves a hand at the now still river. She stops laughing almost immediately, stiffening in his arms.

“I was just reminding myself how much I’m not like her,” a kind of self-hatred steel, has entered her voice. 

“Tina that’s not-” Newt tries to dissuade her, ready to start on why that’s not true, but she fights through his speech.

“No it’s true. I know I’m not a…an easy person to love, not like she was, not like Queenie. And I'm scared that...” she trails off to take a shuddering breath, not able to finish the sentence. His heart breaks and he tries to make every inch of him touch her, to show her without words, her that every inch of him loves her.

“And after my parents died well…I’ve never been particularly happy, not until recently anyway,” Tina cups a hand on his cheek, and Newt feels the warm metal of his lovingly selected ring caress his skin.

Despite the heat, her face is somehow still pale. Only her lips have a soft pink hue to them and he leans in to kiss them. She leans back, to his intense disappointment, too busy worrying at her lip to worry at his. 

“Newt,” Tina says nervily, “What do you think about children?”

“Children? What children?” Newt asks shocked, looking frantically around him as if expecting tiny feet to emerge from the jungle.

“Our children, our future children,” Tina says, watching him seemingly apprehensively. 

Newt sits back on his heels, gazing up at the luminous moon. Her ability to think along the same line as he, is astounding, and is some of the most amazing magic he’s ever seen. 

For the last two months he’s been deliberating talking to her about it. The world may have changed after the great war, but the ‘modern age’, hasn’t changed that much. After they marry he knows what will be expected of them. His own mother is exceptional proof. Theseus has warned Newt that she’s almost obsessed with talking with her friends (‘who all have a hoard of grandchildren, brother’), what good hips Tina has. And once... he still shudders in embarrassment thinking about it. After one family dinner while Tina and Theseus were stuck in an intense debate about auror tactics with his father, Newt had spent, what would’ve been a pleasurable evening discussing hippogriff breeding cycles with his mother. Except the entire time, her fingers were busy knitting a soft blue blanket, way too small for either man or hippogriff. He’d had to have one too many whiskies that night, especially after noticing the adorable bumblebee pattern being stitched on the top of the baby blue. Tina, thankfully, hadn’t noticed, kissing her future mother-in-law’s cheek happily as they said their goodbyes. But perhaps, as he takes in her anxious features, she did but choose not to bring it up much like he did. 

What sticks to him most about his Mum’s embarrassing actions though is that- Newt can see it. It's almost as easy as sinking into a warm bath. See Tina growing large and round with the combination of ‘them’. See a tiny child holding onto his leg, while a baby sits in her lap, tugging on her hair while he introduces them to the creatures. A possessive purr almost crawls out of him just thinking about it. The wanting to have a family, his own family, burns within him his chest, filling him indescribable joy and longing. 

But there is also a terrible darkness in the trapped in the back of Newt’s mind. For him and Tina and their gang to be camping deep in the South American jungle, only a mere mile away from what is probably a trap, is causing him to have slight heart palpitations. But to imagine an innocent child waiting up for them, makes him feel violently ill. A child with strawberry red curls and beautiful dark brown eyes, believing with all their heart that everything will be fine. That their parents will always come home from their adventures, just like they always come home from the shops or from work. ‘But we might not come home’. Newt’s jaw twitches, imagining their child waiting at a lonely window, all while himself and Tina are killed in Grindlewald’s jaws. How on earth could they bring children into the world, where a war will inevitably come knocking down their door?

“Newt?” Tina asks tentatively.

He takes her hands and squeezes them. She’s bitten her nails down to the quick. 

“Love, of course I want children, your children, our children” Newt tells her truthfully, brushing her now grown out fringe from her eyes. 

Tina’s face breaks out into a large toothy grin. She draws herself closer to him, placing a relieved hand on her chest.

“Really?” She stutters, glowing with happiness. 

“Of course, I’d like nothing more,” he says, and is interrupted by Tina’s eager lips on his. 

She’s whispering thankful sounding foreign words between each breath, and he kisses her back just as happy as he is bemused. Eventually she breaks off wrapping her arms around his neck, practically vibrating with excitement. Newt holds her just as tight, steeling himself with what he has to-must say. 

“But not yet, don’t you think Tina?” he asks her softy. She stills in his arms, and he can feel her heart beat pound into his chest. 

“What?” she says croakily. He tries to lean back, but her tight grip keeps him there, and Newt’s unable to see her face. 

“I mean after we marry, I think we should wait a little,” he says in her ear. 

“Wait,” Tina says faintly, moving her head limply. He can’t tell if it’s a nod or a shake. 

“Yes, I mean there’s a war coming, a war we’re involving ourselves in wholeheartedly, I just don’t think it would be a good idea, do you?” Newt hears her swallow.

“No, no I don’t,” she says tightly. 

Then she moves out of his arms, a grimace of a smile pasted on her face, wrapping her arms instead around her waist. Her tight grip and loose dress causes the hem to rise up her thighs and there is a mole on her left knee that he pulses to kiss. So he does. Then her elbow, then her neck which he suckles at, nibbling her sighs lovingly. 

“I do love you Tina, so very much,” he mumbles an apology into her skin, her sadness at his proclamation evident, “we’ll have children one day, I promise,” 

“I’m…I love you too Newt,” she replies wetly. 

\-------------------------------------

Their second time, was admittedly not planned. 

They had wanted a simple affair for their wedding, a few close friends and family. Only a small celebration, but filled with those they loved. However, their plans were unfortunately becoming dreams. Isabella Athena Scamander, an intensely kind woman, who Tina- to Newt’s intense pleasure- warmed to almost immediately. Her passion for ancient Greece, hippogriffs and her youngest son are enough to cause anyone to love her. But she is also a woman of her time, and like the Scamander manor, she expected Newt’s wedding to be filled of pomp and circumstance. Newt and Tina’s tiny guest list had erupted with cousins, ministry colleagues and intense magizoology fans. Their simple ceremony had been taken over by tonnes of elaborate flowers, mountains of silk and lace and one goblin made tiara. 

Usually this would’ve been enough for Newt to put his foot down. He knew that he and Tina were looking forward to their marriage with dizzying pleasure, but he wasn’t happy with her obvious trepidation at their special day. But Theseus was almost as thrilled as their parents, excitedly explaining the best places to hire suits and get dresses made. And for a pre-emptive wedding gift he’d hired them the band that was supposed to play at his own, explaining slightly shakily ‘that they do all of Leta’s favourite- the best songs’ and that he knew that she’d want him to have them as well. 

So they’d said yes, though Newt and Tina had purposefully not looked to closely at their own wedding plans, just nodding their heads in agreement at whatever his mother or Theseus proposed. This tactic was actually working pretty well- until their engagement party. 

The intense amount of people stuffed into his parent’s living room made Newt feel sick and Tina surly. The ‘happy’ couple had spent the evening awkwardly hiding, and drinking incredible amounts of champagne. Enough alcohol, in fact, that eventually they laughed openly, showed off their tattoos excitedly to absolutely anyone that asked them, and displayed affections that usually only their creatures got a chance to see. At the end of the night, giggling helplessly they stumbled up to Newt’s childhood bedroom, and it was no surprise to anyone that they fell clumsily into bed. Newt awoken with a hangover and an uncomfortable dose of embarrassment, but also deliriously happy. How could he not be with a naked Tina lovingly wrapped in his arms? 

\------------------------------------

Their plan had gone horribly, horribly wrong. Almost so wrong, in fact, they hadn’t even ended up in the hidden tree house of the blood oath breaker. Instead they’d ended up in a damp prison cell- Newt, Tina, Theseus, Jacob, Nagini and Yusuf all tied to the floor by large metal chains that wrapped around their wrists and ankles. All wands had been taken away, Nagini had been forced to drink a potion that prevented her to transform. And Newt’s case sat forlornly in a corner, and Pickett with his unlocking powers were trapped in within.  
Basically they were trussed up like turkeys, unable to move, hoping against all hope that someone, anyone would save them.

Tina is vibrating like a leaf beside him- although from fear or anger, Newt cannot tell. He tries to angle his body as close to hers as possible, but the chains dig into his skin, not allowing him to even touch her. Comfort her. Do anything. 

“Tina,” he whispers, and his breath brushing her hair aside. 

She looks up. There’s a grey bruise on her forehead and a bright red scratch on her nose. She reaches out her own hand until her bonds clink. Their fingers are inches apart. He can’t remember what her hand feels like in his own. Why can’t he remember that? Her chocolate brown eyes burn into his- his fiery, passionate, beautiful Tina. Footsteps echo louder, and louder, approaching their cell. 

“Newt,” she mouths silently, a single tear brushing her cheek, and the door busts open. 

Six people enter the room, and tower over their prey. A few Newt recognises. Abernathy, the annoying plaster of a man, who berated Tina at MACUSA. Rosier, dressed to the nines, in 6 inch heels and a tailored suit, despite the slime dripping from the ceiling. And almost hiding near the door, slinking in the shadows- is Queenie Goldstein. Newt’s jaw drops, Theseus spits on the floor and Tina takes a sharp intake of breath. Her clothes may not be her signature pink, her cheery grin may be missing from her face- but her blonde curls are unmistakable.

“Queenie!” Jacob yells helplessly, “Queenie, baby, please help us!” 

Newt sees her wince, watching half concerned, half disgusted, as she shuts her eyes tight against her ex-loves pleads. 

“Silence!” Roiser shouts, pointing her wand in Jacob’s face. His voice disappears with a squeak, his mouth opening and closing like a puppet, soundlessly. 

The dangerous woman stalks between them. Tina, Theseus and Yusuf stare her down, without blinking. Nagini, Jacob and Newt however bow their heads. He focuses all his energy in studying the grime on the old stone floor, despite Rosier’s clacking heels halting in front of his nose. 

“Mr Scamander,” she says genteelly. Tina hisses through her teeth, and he wills her to stay silent, to keep her cool. He continues to stare at the ground. 

A smooth sliver of wood is placed under Newt’s chin, and Rosier forces his head upwards. Her eyes sparkle teasingly at him, and he shudders in revulsion. 

“Oh come on Mr Scamander,” says sulkily, her lips pouted babyishly, “I just want to ask you a simple question,”

He swallows tightly, jaw clenched, not wanting to give her the validation of his consent. Her neat eyebrows narrow. 

“Does Albus Dumbledore know where we are?” she asks silkily. 

Newt chews on his tongue. Bright blue eyes appear behind his eyes, resurfacing from his memory. They promised to watch over them, promised to intervene if things went south. ‘If you need me Newt, I will come, don’t doubt it’. But how could that be? How could he get them out of this, when he was busy teaching at Hogwarts and they were in a dungeon in South America?

“I don’t know,” he whispers honestly. Rosier smiles evilly. 

“Oops, wrong answer,” she says, patting his chin with her wand condescendingly, and sashaying away.

Her posse watches her every move devotedly, like moths to flame. All except Queenie, who is staring resolutely at the ceiling. Rosier’s perfectly manicured nails scape the walls, causing shivers to crawl up his spine. Her cruel foot abruptly kicks out and his case falls to the floor with a thud. Newt’s heart jumps to his throat. 

“No,” he whimpers, nerves shaking. He feels Tina stiffen beside him. 

“As someone, refuses to dive in,” Rosier glares at Queenie, who nods stiffly, still refusing to look at anyone. 

“Perhaps a little persuasion will help,” she smirks devilishly, pointing her wand at his case ready to strike. 

“No!” Newt screams desperately, at the same time Tina yells determinedly-

“No! Take me instead!” 

The breath is knocked out of Newt and he’s too shocked to speak, despite the rest of their groups frightened yells, and Jacobs worried shaking.  
Rosier, however, seems to be regarding Tina in a happy sort of way. Smiling softly, and nodding almost proudly at her. Newt pulls on his chains, trying to reach her, protect her, stop her. But Tina’s gaze is fixed firmly on his case, her fingers squeezed so tight the blood has run out of them. 

“Love, don’t, please,” he cries, nervous tears running down his face. 

“We’re not losing them,” she spits fiercely, glaring at Rosier. 

Newt doesn’t think he’s ever loved her more. Or has he been more afraid for her. 

“I suppose Newt Scamander’s love, will be just as interesting to play with as Newt Scamander’s creatures,” Rosier smirks at Newt’s stricken look. 

Quick as a flash Rosier cuts through Tina’s metal chains, and she grabs her by the collar roughly pulling her upwards. The Frenchwoman bites her wands into the love of his life’s neck. Tina lips are pierced together firmly, and her face is stone, unmovable. Newt tries to use the sweat sitting around his wrists and ankles to slip out of his bindings, but it’s no use. He buries his head into stone floor helplessly, not wanting to witness what atrocities hide in the word ‘play’. 

“It’s sweet,” he hears Rosier tell Tina condescendingly. He can almost imagine her squeezing her cheek, “how much you care about your ‘children’” 

There’s an ominous beat. 

“Wait no!” Tina shrieks obviously terrified. 

Newt looks up. Her previous cool composure, has been replaced by clear terror. Two red spots have appeared high on her cheek bones and her eyes are wide and shaking. Tina begins trying to wildly twist out of Rosier’s iron grip to no avail. Seeing her distress Newt begins to pull against his chains again. Something must have happened that he missed that has caused her to break down. A particular method of torture whispered in her ear perhaps. Tina looks desperately at him, at his tethered state, and feebly shudders. 

“Queenie,” she whispers under her breath. 

‘What?’ Newt thinks perturbed. Out of the five people here she can trust, she is trying to get help from the person who chose Grindelwald? 

Tina has turned to her sister, and begins to plead her voice cracking, tears watering her voice. 

“Queenie, Queenie please, you can see, I know you can, please, please, please,” she cries almost falling on her knees, Rosier’s grasp the only thing holding her up. Queenie is shaking her head despondently, almost chewing off her lip. 

“Goldstein what is she talking about?” Rosier asks Queenie coldly, but her voice is practically drowned out by the force of Tina’s now hysterical wails. 

“Queenie, please, I know you’re still in there, you wouldn’t want, I know, please, Queenie, please,” she screams at her younger sibling, who is now visibly shaking. 

“Queenie,” Tina sobs, tears splashing down her cheeks. 

Queenie seems to straighten herself, brushing down her skirt almost professionally. She determinedly waltzes over to where Rosier holds an almost demented Tina, twisting her wand between her fingers. She gives her sister a shaky smile, and for a second a piece of hope rises up in him and Newt believes that everything will be okay. But then to Newt’s horror she raises her wand like a weapon, pointing it dangerously at her sisters nose. His breath comes out in harsh pants, and he scratches his nails on the stone desperately, stuttering helplessly Tina bows her head. 

“Please,” Tina whimpers and Queenie nods. 

There’s a flash of bright, green, light and a loud crash as a body hits the back wall behind prisoners. Newt blinks, desperately turning himself, his secure chains preventing him from getting a proper look. A pale white hand lies limp on the ground. Grindelwald's followers stare slack mouthed at the scene, while Dumbledore's supporters struggle against their chains trying to break free. Queenie picks her way between them, making a wide berth around the place where Jacob is. Finally, she reaches the motionless body, and kneels down to place two gentle fingers on the woman’s neck. Clenching her jaw, Queenie stands, and turns to her fellows with a firm mask on her face. 

“Dead,” she says emotionlessly, and Rosier claps her hands together proudly. 

Tina is slumped on the floor, as still as a board. One hand reaching towards Newt’s case, other wrapped protectively around her stomach. 

\------------------------------------------

The third time it happened it was on top of the astronomy tower. Like they were seventeen and hiding from potential prefects or interfering ghosts. Newt was sober, Tina more experienced, and it was dazzlingly. Making love to the woman he adores, all while overlooking the gorgeous Scottish moors is something he’ll remember for his entire life. Tina snuggled into his arm and he planted a kiss on her forehead, pulling his grey coat up over them. He felt her place wet kisses all over his neck, and his eyes involuntarily fluttered shut in bliss. And although it was tempting, he forced him to pull her up, kissing her lovingly but lightly.

“Do you want them to find us?” Newt asked, amused. 

They’d snuck out of Dumbledore’s office while the others had a last cup of tea, working over the Hogwarts professor’s latest scheme. 

“No,” Tina replied but still incredibly jittery. He could feel the adrenalin still pulsing through her entire body. 

“Later at mine,” he said, his voice deep. Her shiver caused him to preen and pull her closer. 

They hold each other until their heart beat slowed and their sweat cooled on their skin. Tina stretched and her limbs cracked. 

“What are we going to do Newt?” she sighed, reaching for her shirt where it dangled off a telescope. 

“Go to South America and break a blood pact,” he tried, attempting to keep the elated mood from before. 

“You know what I mean,” Tina shot him a dark look, “what’s going to happen after? We go on to defeat Grindelwald? Or?” she trailed off depressingly, only half her button done up. 

His dragon flapped his wings excitedly over her stomach. Newt however felt nothing but emptiness. He pulled her close to him, not able to see how her own Thunderbird also seemed intensely interested in Tina’s abdomen; The beast cawing proudly and causing rainstorms to erupt on his upper chest.

“We’re not going to die, Tina,” he whispered into her hair, “I promise,”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Ahhhhhh Sorry!  
> Don't worry, not everything is as it seems and all will be revealed in the next chapter. I promise there won't be as long as a wait for the next one!


	7. Chapter 7

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Tina is dead. Tina is dead and Newt's heart died with her.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello again!  
> This chapter will resolve all the drama for the last chapter, hopefully everyone likes it!
> 
> Just a heads up; This might be my last chapter in this fic for a while. I've still got ideas for this story, but I've also got other Newtina fic ideas lined up in my brain which I actually have endings for, and I want to get them out first before continuing this one. Don't worry though; I will definitely come back to this story, there's more fluff and drama ahead!

“Tina?” Newt calls tentatively, ignoring Rosier’s cruel giggles.

Tina doesn’t move. Her hair has fallen over her face, some of the strands have gotten caught under her nose. Tina doesn’t like when her hair gets under her nose, she says it tickles. Every time she helps out in his case or hospital she wears an old piece of fabric as the type of bandana to keep it out of her way. She would never not flick her hair out of her face. She would never not reply to him. Queenies word’s echo round and round in his head. ‘Dead, dead, dead,’. 

He looks up at the blonde haired witch. Her face is cold and sharp, she’s looking somewhere near Tina’s stomach rocking backwards and forwards on her toes. Rosier is almost rubbing her hands together with glee. Tina still isn’t moving. Theseus and Nagini have also begun calling her name. Yusuf looks as if he might be sick. Jacob has hidden his head in his hands and his shoulders are shaking violently. No, no, no, no, no.

“TINA!” he yells tears dribbling down his face. He can’t see her chest moving. She’s not moving. She’s dead. But she can’t be. He loves her. They’re going to get married. She’s his mate, she’s his Tina. 

There’s some tittering’s from the rest of Grindelwald’s followers. Newt can feel his nerves stretch, fraying at the edges. Tina should be jumping up, using her auror instincts to slap Rosier, grab their wands, fight them all, win, then bounce them all of here. His Tina could do that, she’s so strong, she’s so powerful. She could take down his brother. She could duel Grindelwald and live to tell the tale. She shouldn’t be lying on the floor like a rag doll, legs skewed. Newt’s magic swells to the surface of his skin. He feels hot and itchy, and his limps ache. Should his nails be tingling like this? His hair be tingling with electricity? 

“So,” Rosier says, turning on her heel and smirking down at him, “Now will you tell us the truth about Dumbledore, Mr Scamander?” 

Newt blinks. Then he sees red. His magic rolls off him in waves, and he clenches his fists tight feeling his nails bite painfully into his skin. The sounds of peoples screams ring in his ears, but he can’t stop. All the pain he’s feeling, all the heartache, the anger. For the first time in his life he doesn’t find it in him to be able to forgive. Killing the love of his life, that will never be forgiven. Not ever. There’s a terrible crack, and a groan, then the familiar whoosh sound of apparition. 

“Newt,” a hand shakes his shoulder.

Newt sucks on his cheeks, half blind with grief. He doesn’t care, he doesn’t care about anything anymore. Tina is dead, and his heart died with her.

“Newt!” the stern authority in the voice makes him look up. To concerned eyes stare down at him. Familiar sparkling blue eyes. He blinks, once, twice. Dumbledore. 

The shakes himself, properly looking round. There is a red ring of sticky blood around his wrists instead of his chains; which when he concentrates, sting painfully. He’s the only one left sitting on the floor surrounded by their empty bonds. Dumbledore is leaning over him worriedly, Nicholas Flammel’s silver orb held tightly to his chest. Jacob is huddled against the wall an empty shell, shaking. Theseus and Yusuf are sorting through their wands; his case is tucked under his brother’s arm. Rosier lying spread eagled on the floor. A wooden beam has crashed down from the ceiling and is crushing her; a pool of black liquid is surrounding her head like an halo. The rest of Grindelwald’s followers, including Queenie have vanished. Nagini is crouching next to Tina, brushing a lock of her hair behind of her ear. That’s good. It won’t tickle her any more. Nothing is going to tickle her every again.  
Newt collapses and Dumbledore catches him. 

“No, no come on, we’ve only got a few minutes,” the great wizard takes him under the elbows and hauls himself upwards. Newt’s feet feel like they’re detached from his body and it takes a few minutes for him to stand upright. Tina looks so much smaller from his height, curled in on herself like a child. He should have protected her, should have said something, done something. She was so clearly terrified and he failed her. 

“Tina,” Newt says hoarsely, reaching a weak hand out to her. 

“I don’t think that’s a good idea, Newt,” Theseus says softly. 

He’s using the same the same tone of voice he himself used after Leta died. When Newt tried to comfort his brother he thought he sounded very understanding, very empathetic, that his words would help. He didn’t realise how condescending it really was. How it just went through one ear and out the other. 

“Tina,” he repeats petulantly. 

“I’ll take you,” Dumbledore says quietly, his voice wet. The pair shuffle over to where she lays. Yusuf has an arm wrapped around a sobbing Nagini. He silently holds out both his and Tina’s wands. Newt tucks his own into his pocket. Tina’s he slips into the inside of his coat next to his heart. 

Tina’s hair has been pushed out of her face. It’s strange to see her face so still, so empty. People think she’s cold, that she’s always frowning, like Jacob once said; ‘Intense’. But that’s because they haven’t looked her properly in the eyes before. They’re the entry to her soul, which show the kaleidoscope which are her deepest emotions. Her happiness, her passion, her kindness. Her eyes are shut. He’ll never see them again.

“Oh love,” he says shakily, cupping her face gently, stroking her cheeks with his thumbs. 

“Are you alright with holding her? To take her back home,” Dumbledore asks him. He’s holding a manky old boot that’s glowing a soft blue; a portkey. Newt nods simply. He’s never letting her go; at least not until they say he has to. 

Tina’s still warm, despite everything, and he can almost pretend, almost, that she’s still here. His nails trail over her smooth neck. She looks so beautiful, so peaceful, so…what was that. Heart pounding in his ears, he presses a thumb into her neck. Is that? Is that a pulse? Leans down, pressing his face against hers. Her lips seem almost sewn shut, but her nostrils are not, and a weak breath of air brushes his cheek. He holds his breath, waiting. There it is again. In, out, in, out. She’s breathing, she’s breathing.

“She’s breathing,” he says out loud. His breath is coming out in rough pants.

The rest of the group stare at him sympathetically. He can feel their hot judgement on his neck, burning him, and he refuses to meet their eyes. 

“No she is not, Newton,” Theseus says firmly, “you know she’s not,” 

“She is, she is,” Newt pulls Tina into his lap, clutching her to his chest. 

Dumbledore and Theseus exchange dark looks, and for a moment he hates them; for not believing him, and for making him doubt himself. Could it be true that Newt’s imagining things? That his grief is contorting reality? 

“There’s one way to tell, my friend, a true way,” Yusuf says quietly, stroking a trembling Nagini’s shoulders. 

“How?” Newt asks desperately. Yusuf shrugs as if it’s obvious. 

“Your tattoo, is it alive?” the French man says, pointing down at his ankle. Leta’s tattoo has frozen on his skin, it’s dark feathers white; all because the soul of its owner has left this world. 

Newt gently sits Tina in his lap and slowly undoes his shirt with numb fingers. He pulls open his shirt and cautiously looks down. Tina’s thunderbird, flaps weakly on his chest. Its feathers are limp; it’s his head is droopy. But it's colour is vivid, and it's bronze feathers shine. She’s alive. Tina's alive. Newt stutters, speechless with joy. Yusuf nods a small smile drawn on his face, and whistles sharply drawing everyone's attention.

“Tina’s alive,” he says simply, pointing firmly to Newt’s open shirt and where the Thunderbird clearly flies, “we’ve got to get her home, now,”

“That’s, that’s not possible,” Theseus gapes, staring blankly between Newt’s chest and the woman in his lap, “Queenie killed her, we all saw,”

“The tattoos never lie,” Dumbledore says nods knowingly. Unlike Theseus shock which is full of disbelief and suspicion, the Hogwarts professors shock is full of hope. He ashes everyone over to where Newt holds Tina, laying the boot on the floor “quickly everyone, there’s not a minute to lose,”

\------------------------

They appear straight into the Hogwarts hospital wing, collapsing in a heap on the floor. Dumbledore immediately leaps into action, rapping on the matron’s door loudly. Newt cradles Tina’s head in his lap. She’s still scarily still. He reaches for her pulse and it flutters against his fingers, but only just.

“Don’t die love, please,” Newt buries his face in her hair, whispering desperate prayers.

He feels strong hands on his shoulders and he’s dragged upwards away from her limp form. Newt struggles, attempting to tear himself away from his captures clutches. But they’re too strong, and he’s forced to watch hysterically as a stern matron still wearing her curlers and her yawning daughter protégée take Tina away behind a large white screen and out of his sight. 

“Tina, TINA!” Newt yells frantically.

“You’ve got to let them look after her pal,” Jacob says shakily from his right.

“Yes, Newt they know what they’re doing,” Yusuf says from his left, pulling his arm towards a spare bed. 

“I’ve got to make sure she’s okay,” he spits as the pair pins him down on the mattress. 

“Why?” Theseus says quietly.

All three men flop down on the bed in shock. Newt quickly scrambles out of his friends now lax grip and glares at his older brother. Theseus is leaning, exhausted, on the hospitals door frame, clutching Newt's case to his chest. His eyes are narrowed and full of suspicion, traced on the white screen which hides Tina from view.

“Excuse me?” Newt hisses softly, hand twitching for his wand. 

“Why did Queenie listen to her?” Theseus shrugs, “she must’ve seen something in Tina that made her take her side,” 

His rage that had just managed to simmer begins to roar again, both at the injustice and the truth in his brother’s words. Newt stumbles out of the bed, and points his wand in his brother’s face. Angry sparks accidentally fall out of the tip scorching his nose and cheeks. Ignoring Theseus’ cries of outrage, and whipping his beloved creatures out of his grip.

“Shut up!” Newt screams, his wand shaking violently.

“She's betrayed us!” Theseus yells back, wand also in hand which he is waving wildly. 

“She has not!” Newt moves to open his case, ready to defend Tina’s honour with his most interesting (‘Dangerous, Newton’ as Tina likes to say, but she always smiles as she says it) creature he has to offer. 

“Enough,” Dumbledore booms, eyes blazing. Both men cower at the powerful anger flowing off their old head master.

“Theseus,” Dumbledore says sternly, “You can’t deny Tina’s sacrificed was incredibly brave and unselfish,” his brothers head hangs, his angrily studying the ground. 

“And Newt,” blue eyes sparkle down on him, and he shies away from his curious gaze, “do you have any idea why Queenie listened to Tina?” there’s far too much sympathy coated in his voice for Newt to handle.

He shakes his head, a depressing, silent, no. He has no idea, and it cuts him deep inside. The sounds of Nagini’s sobs fill the air. A firm hand claps down on Newt’s shoulder, but he doesn’t feel it. Could it be possible that Tina actually betrayed them? 

“Listen everyone,” Dumbledore says austerely, “I don’t want any of you to drag Tina’s name through the mud,”

“Hear, hear,” Jacob says honestly, and Newt casts him a weak, thankful, smile. 

“Queenie may have gotten her under Grindelwald’s spell, but Tina may have also tricked her sister,” Dumbledore continues, “but either way we should show her the courtesy of hearing it from her lips,” the intense furrow in his brow, prove to Newt that the professor is not following his own advice. 

But still, one by one, every person in their sober group nods their head in agreement; Theseus last and slightly grudgingly. Dumbledore claps his hands together, pleased again.

“Good, I’ll go make some tea,” the professor turns to leave, but is prevented by a loud cough. 

The grumpy matron stands with her arms crossed across her chest, glaring round at all of them. Her daughter bounces beside her, eyes shining bright.

“Tina?” Newt asks croakily. 

“She won’t wake,” the matron says clinically, and Newt slumps, teeth crunching together, “The immobilization curse was weak and easy to remove, but she hit her head, and for that, it’s a waiting game,”

She rocks backwards and forwards on her heels making her curlers wobble, clearly deliberating something. The little girl is tugging on her mother’s skirts excitedly, bouncing on her tip-toes. Newt leans forward expectantly, waiting for her to speak again. 

“However I think I may have the answer your problem, Headmaster,” she says hesitantly, “this Queenie is Tina Goldstein’s sister is she not?”

“Yes,” Dumbledore says inquisitively, “why?”

“Is there,” the matron still seems uncertain, “is her husband present?” 

“Why should that matter?” New asks, a little too harshly.

The matron stiffens with clear dislike and clamps her lips in a smooth line. Her daughter however bursts open like a balloon, the secret too much for her immature mouth. 

“It’s because she’s pregnant,” the child happily sings out, proclaiming the news to her shocked audience. 

“Poppy,” the matron berates her, “we do not talk about our patients freely like that,”

Newt meanwhile has stopped breathing. He feels everybody’s eyes on him, but is unable to do anything but blink blankly, stunned into disbelief. ‘Pregnant? Tina’s pregnant? But that means…’ He hides his head in his hands, sobbing freely. Tina’s frantic screams, slowly clicking together in his mind. She didn’t want any of her children to die. Not his creatures or...or her own. So she pleaded with her sister, the only person who would know without being told, to save them. And Queenie did- despite her allegiance.  
Jacob seems to be thinking along the same lines. 

“This isn’t about Tina betraying us,” the American’s voice is full of hope, “This is about the possibility of Queenie coming back!” 

It’s like a beam of sunlight has passed over the group, buzzing chatter filling the room. Newt however is still in the dark, lost in conflicting emotions. 

“Tina,” he says hoarsely, “Can I see her?”

“Are you her husband?” the matron asks testily. Newt gapes at her. ‘Is her not going to be able to see Tina on a technicality? He's going to be, shouldn't that be enough’ 

“Yes,” a voice comes from behind him. Theseus’s feet hit Newt’s thigh, and his brother standing for him in his voiceless state. 

“He’s not wearing a ring,” the matron continues to fight, still suspicious. 

“He lost it in the ruckus,” Theseus says sternly, and Newt grasps his ankle gratefully, recognising this defence as his brothers apology to him.

“Fine,” the matron gives in, throwing her hands up in the air. 

Newt quickly scrambles to his feet and Theseus pats him on the back. 

“Congratulations Newton,” he says with a wistful smile, and pushes him towards the screen. 

Newt tries to walk, but his feet feel numb, and his legs keep trying to collapse beneath him. Eventually he reaches Tina’s beside. 

Her drawn face lies on the starched pillow. Her arms placed either side of her are limp on the blankets. There’s no sign of life- not even a flicker of eyelid, not a twitch. Only the continuous rise and fall of her chest slows the beat of his heart (but only a little).   
Newt collapses into the chair beside her, case comfortably seated between his knees. He brings one of her hands to her lips and kisses it. It’s ice cold on his mouth. He opens his shirt again, checking that the thunderbird still flies. It is, Tina’s alive. And pregnant, with his child. A combination of hope and fear fill him, making the room spin. 

Newt searches her form desperately, but the sheets hide her body from his hungry eyes. How could he have not noticed? Not noticed the person he shared a tent with for two weeks was carrying life within her? He pulls down the covers with shaky hands. Someone has opened her dress leaving her only in her shift. And the silkily material has been bunched up around her bust leaving her middle half exposed. And where Tina’s taunt stomach usually lays, is a tiny bump. Her dragon is sitting protectively on top of it, one claw on her bellybutton.

He places a damp palm on her stomach, stroking the raised spot with gentle hands. ‘What if Tina dies? Then this tiny bump will die also. They'll both die’. Unable to stop himself, Newt swings himself onto her squeaky bed and wraps his arms around her. He clasps her head to his chest and sobs. 

“Oh Tina, please, please, please,” he cries, “don’t leave me, please don’t leave me love,” 

A terrible thought hits him. ‘What if she isn’t fighting properly because he told her he didn’t want children yet?’ Sour sick fills his mouth. ‘What if she’s given up, too sick to carry on, not wanting to carry on if it means carrying a child she doesn’t think he wants?’

“I do want them Tina,” he whispers desperately into her ear, “I want them so very much, I was just…scared,” He swallows painfully, voice deep and wet, “I want them to live, I want you to live, love,” 

“Mmmm,” a slight moan crawls out from under his chin. 

“Tina?” Newt gasps in disbelief, quickly looking down at her. Her eyes are still shut. But… could it be? A movement of her head, a twitch of her mouth? “Tina? Love?” 

“Egh,” she groans, and her eyes finally blearily blink open, “Newt?” she croaks.

“Oh, thank Merlin,” he sobs, kissing every inch her face that he can reach. Every now and again his lips taste we salt; Tina is also crying. A weak hand crawls into his hair and Newt lets out a shuddering breath at the pure familiarity of the gesture. 

“I’m sorry, I’m sorry, I’m sorry,” she’s whimpering. 

“Shhh,” he says harshly, his intense emotions filtering into his voice, “don’t be sorry, love, you were brilliant, oh so clever, I’m going to have the most brilliant wife,” he kisses her roughly, one hand in her hair, the other pressed against her stomach. 

Tina however abruptly breaks away, her nose bumping into his painfully. 

“No, no I put them in danger,” she strokes her belly. He interlocks their fingers but it doesn’t stop her torrent of hysterical mumblings, “I couldn’t let them hurt our creatures, but I couldn’t let them hurt our child, and then Queenie, where’s Queenie?” she tries to sit up, but falls back wincing in obvious pain. 

“What’s wrong?” Newt asks alarmed.

“Just my neck, I’m fine,” she brushes him off, still trying to look around a desperate expression across her face, “where’s Queenie?” 

“She left with the rest of them, Grindelwald’s followers when they escaped, Newt explained,   
“I’m so sorry love, but I don’t know where she is,” Tina sobs into her hands, and he rocks her against his chest. 

“She saved you,” he says wondrously into her ear, “she said you were dead. She lied for you love, so Rosier wouldn’t hurt you, or the…the baby,” 

Tina clutches their combined hands to her abdomen more firmly- nesting her forehead against his shoulder. 

“I’m sorry,” she says softly, “I was going to tell you, but then you said we should wait, and I got scared,” her final word is a mumble into his shirt. Newt’s voice is caught in his throat, and he’s unable to say anything, only managing to stroke her hair in a comforting manner.   
“Queenie was the only one who could find out I was pregnant without me saying anything, I had to beg for her help,” she whispers despondently, “and she did, she helped me,”

Tina’s dark eyes bore into his. He crushes his forehead to her own and she sighs helplessly. 

“Queenie helped me Newt, helped us,” she says incredulously, “what does that mean?”

“It means you’re alive,” Newt says fiercely, kissing her in the same manner.

This time she responds with vigour, tongue desperately seeking home in his mouth. She gaps with loss when he breaks away, but chokes on a moan when he begins kissing his way down her throat, through the valley of her breasts, only stopping when he reaches her stomach which he nuzzles lovingly. 

“Newt,” Tina cries in wonder, as he settles himself firmly between her thighs kissing every piece of skin of her stomach he can reach. Her dragon flies in and out of his touch, every now and again sporting excited flames out of its flared nostrils. 

“You’re stunning did you know that?” Newt says, finally looking up but only when his lips are truly sore and red. Tina is staring down at him, pink cheeked, “a baby, a baby,” he presses his nose into her bellybutton. 

“I thought you didn’t want this,” Tina says quietly, voice unsure, “not yet anyway,” 

Newt bites his lip, self-hated filling his like a wave. He shakes his head vigorously, grasping her hips his thumbs caressing the bump. He looks up. Tina’s pink cheeks have turned crimson, and she’s looking at him shyly through her lashes. 

“I want his baby so desperately Tina,” he says wholeheartedly, “I already loved it so much, I was scared for its wellbeing before I even knew it existed, so scared in fact that I said we should wait”

Tina buries her face in her hands, and her shoulders shake with obvious relief. Newt gently strokes his hips until she calms. 

“In fact,” he says softly,” I’ve imagined it. A boy with your hair, my eyes maybe, a dimpled smile,”

A wobbly smile appears on Tina’s face. She strokes his cheek with a shaky thumb, and he closes his eyes, hopeless to her touch.

“Really?” she asks breathlessly.  
Newt crawls up her body, cradling her neck, nudging his nose into her own. 

“Of course,” he says and she beams, pull him into her again kissing him sweetly. 

Her new curves press into his and he wonders for the millionth time how he didn’t notice it before. He should’ve noticed as soon as she gave up her trademark hip hugging pants, for lose dresses and skirts. But blood pacts and Rio had taken over his life for the past month. The past month. He runs his hands over her stomach. Definitely not big enough for their first time (nine months ago), not quite big enough for their engagement party (4 months ago). But their last time together was only about a month ago, and yet a significant bump rests under his palm. 

“Tina,” he mumbles, his voice slightly high pitched against her lips, “how many weeks are you?”

“Ah, about six I think,” she pulls back a little, “why?” 

“Er,” Newt says, uncertain about how to approach the subject, “you’re a little ‘big’ aren’t you?” he eventually says slowly, trying his very best not to offend her. 

But to his surprise, instead of her frown, her face breaks out in an almost cheeky grin. 

“You know how you talked about a boy before,” she says teasingly, “how would you feel about a little girl as well?” 

Newt’s jaw falls slack and she giggles a little. He buries his face in her neck, feeling slightly faint. Good lord, he’s going to have to buy a bigger house. In the country maybe, with wide fields for their children and creatures to explore. Tina would like that too, the peace and quiet, not the constant bustling which comes from living in London. Their own home. His face unconsciously relaxes into a free state of bliss. Her giggles have turned into open laughter, and he bites down on her skin in retaliation causing her to hiss. Tina shoves him lightly and Newt chuckles. 

“You were scared to tell me you were pregnant, but laugh about the fact we’re having twins?” he asks amused, nipping her ear lobe. Tina shrugs. 

“Twins run in the Goldstein family,” she says leaning her head against him, “I wasn’t that surprised,” Newt blows out an incredulous breath. 

“Just to let you know, don't expect a girl. Boys run in the Scamander family,” he says wryly. 

It’s true. All his cousins are boys. His mum once told him she didn’t even bother thinking up girl names for either him or Theseus. He only just refrained from asking her, why then, one of his middle names is Artemis and why Theseus’s is Hestia. Tina rolls her eyes lovingly, kissing his hairline. 

“I’m not a Scamander darling,” she says softly, "It still could be possible,"

“You will be,” he retorts back.

“In few months, Newt,”

“No,”

“The weddings in three months!”

“Damn the wedding,” Newt says firmly and Tina gasps.

“What?” she asks faintly. 

He holds her closer, stroking her fringe tenderly. She shivers as his nails trail down her cheekbones, and he kisses the corner of her mouth.

“It’s not what we wanted away,” he flicks his head tiredly, and Tina nods in agreement. Their extravagant wedding had been getting on both of their nerves. 

Everyone would groan- especially his mother and Theseus. But in the end it’s their marriage that’s the important thing, not the wedding. And why should the groom and bride be unhappy on their wedding day? Tina’s still nodding, and Newt takes it as permission to continue with his insane idea.

“So let’s just do it, tonight even,” he throws up his hands, slight haphazardly. She’s smiling nervously, her teeth pinching the inside of her cheek.

“Just do it,” she repeats, grasping the hair at the back of his head tightly.

“I want to be able to call the mother of my children, my wife,” he says voice low and deep and Tina somehow falls into him, despite them both lying down on a bed. 

“My husband,” she whispers and he smiles softly, kissing her deeply.

“Mr Scamander!” Tina pushes him away from her, and Newt flails, slipping off the narrow bed and slamming onto the floor. 

Holding himself up on his elbows, Newt looks up to find the tomato red face of the matron glaring down at him. Her little girl beside her is smiling widely, swinging back and forth of her skirt. He hears a soft crunch of silk and figures Tina has slid her shift down. The matrons bottom lip is trembling erratically, and Newt braces himself for an outburst.

“Did it occur to you Mr Scamander, that your wife might need medical attention?” she spits, and Newt cowers. 

“I’m fine,” Tina says brashly. It’s her auror voice and he grins at the sound of it. He hopes she’s scared. He would be, faced with the ice in her tone. 

“You’ve just received a harsh blow to the head and you’re with child,” the matron crosses her arms over her chest severely, “I am sorry to say that I don’t think kissing your husband is the best treatment, Mrs Scamander,”

“Mrs Scamander?” Tina asks as curious lilt to her voice and Newt figures that this would be a good time for him to leave. 

He jumps off the floor, picking up his case and kissing Tina’s cheek.

“I’ll prepare… something, a ceremony of sorts, okay?” he murmurs in her ear.

When he pulls back, she’s grinning like the Cheshire cat and he can’t help but feels he’s got the cream. He can’t help his crooked smile, but he can help giving the matron a wide berth. She’s taken on the appearance of a bomb and he’s glad that it’s Tina and not him who’s going to see her explode. 

One hand on the white screen, Newt turns back. The matron and his daughter have crowded around the bed, yet they could’ve been invisible. For Tina shines like the sun. Her smile, her beautiful smile that he’s never been able to turn away from, beams up at him. She’s got one hand on her stomach, her fingers swirling in the soft fabric of her underclothes. Newt sways on the spot. Their children. A deep hum swells within him, a hum of contentment. He’s never been happier in his life. 

“Love you,” he mouths at Tina and she bites her lip, looking down at her lap a silly expression on her face.

She always makes that face when it says it without warning, a wide grin, shining eyes. He first saw it on her that day on the docks- the first time he knew he truly liked her, like-liked her, that it wasn’t a just a simple crush or passing fancy. The first time he saw she had salamander eyes. 

“Love you,” she mouths back and he nods captivated by her. Eventually he turns his eyes away, but she’s still there. Sat in his mind’s eye. He knows she always will be. His Tina.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Let me know what you think!  
> I like the idea of Newt and Tina having twins, like Rolf and Luna; I think that would be adorable!

**Author's Note:**

> Feel free to tell me what you think! Don't worry there will be adorable Newtina interactions in the next one.


End file.
